


Bullets

by KittyFaceLawl



Category: South Park
Genre: Gang Violence, Smut, Violence, mafia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-06-11 05:29:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15308511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyFaceLawl/pseuds/KittyFaceLawl
Summary: The Mafia has risen, and Eric Cartman is coming to power across the state of Colorado. Craig Tucker was happy with his position in his Colorado Springs, though on one fateful night, Craig has to make a choice.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of @aegisdea ‘s Mafia AU. Go check out their tumblr! This isn’t exactly like their AU, I have my own twists, so I hope it’s ok :)

“Get back here, thief!” An angry, burly shopkeeper roared, standing in front of his store as the impossibly thin man ran, clutching a box of crackers and a water bottle. The shopkeeper made no move to chase after him, just grimaced and whipped out his cellphone, huffing with irritation. “Hello? Yes I need someone taken care of…”

The thin teen wove between buildings before finally settling down behind a rhinoplasty shop, breathing hard and shaking heavily. He collapsed onto the pavement and closed his eyes, letting his heart slow down to a steady pace. Once he had regained control of his breathing and heart rate he opened his eyes and stared down at his reapings. A box of saltine crackers and a Dasani water bottle. He opened the water first and took a  _ glug _ before peeling the crackers open. Homeless life wasn’t glamorous, no. A little under a year ago the teenager thought he could make it on his own and away from his parents. He had managed to get a small apartment downtown, but after two months he had been evicted because he couldn’t keep up with the rent. The nineteen year old had managed to lose his job shortly after, due to his inability to maintain personal hygiene. He was too proud to tell his parents that they were right. He knew that they wouldn’t shut up about it and they would never let him forget. He stubbornly stuffed a salty cracker into his mouth, munching away. 

“That isn’t yours, dude.” Another young man said, and a pair of clean black tennis shoes stopped in front of him. The teenager glanced up, his heart rapidly tapping against his rib cage as he scrambled to his feet, only to be roughly shoved down by one of the shoes. The teen glared up at the other teenager, his mouth still full of cracker. The other teen had black hair like him, but this guys’ eyes were blue, unlike the teen’s light amber ones. This other teenager may have towered over him now, but that was because he was sitting. In reality he easily had a head over this muscled douchebag. He wore a black t-shirt that seemed to accentuate the heavily muscled shoulders and torso, making his appearance very intimidating. 

“What’s it to you?” The lanky teen growled, his back pressed against the rough wall of the rhinoplasty shop. 

The other man chuckled and lifted his foot, pressing it to the teen’s shoulder and grinding, making him wince. “That box is from my friend’s store. And you stole it. What’s your name?” 

The thin teenager growled and spat at the more muscled teen. “Fuck you!” He growled. 

He wiped the spit off of his cheek and glanced down at his prey, the mockingly friendly smile disappearing instantly. “Oh, is that how you wanna play?” He asked, before leaning down and grabbing the other boy by the throat and lifting him up, surprisingly easily. Yet even with his arms extended, the other could still touch the ground. The muscular man paused, looking the teen up and down. He noticed how prominent his cheekbones were, and how sharp his jawline was. His chin and jawline were covered in scratchy black hair, and an awful odor radiated off of him. He had heavy bags under his eyes, yet the amber orbs were blazing with rage. It was honestly a little intimidating, which made the man smile. 

He released the teenager and stepped back, allowing the thin male to stand up on his own. Yep, he was tall. The man smirked a little and stuffed his hands in his jean pockets. “What’s your name?” 

The thief glared down at him, before pulling his fist back and swinging it against him cheek. The punch only turned his head, his cheek throbbing softly. Had he had the muscle, he could’ve done some serious damage. The blue eyed male touched his cheek, his cold fingers cooling the hot skin. “You can punch. Too bad you’re nothing but skin and bones.” He remarked. 

The amber eyed male scowled, but didn’t deny it. Man he wished he was back in high school. He was king of the school, sort of. He was the biggest bully there, that was certain. Everyone feared him, and no one stood up to him. Too bad he barely passed with a D average. He probably could’ve gone off to college and not stayed in this shithole of a town. 

“What’s your name?” Blue Eyes asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he stared up at Amber Eyes. 

He refused to speak, just kept his fists balled at his side. Why the hell should he answer to this gym-rat?

Blue Eyes shook his head and turned his back to Amber Eyes. His gaze landed on the box of crackers and the water bottle, reminding him of his job. “Y’know, there are easier ways to get crackers than shoplifting, right?” 

“Fuck off.” 

The male clicked his tongue and shook his head, leaning down and grabbing the crackers. 

“Hey, give those back-”

“Why don’t you try to get a job? Mine is hiring, after all. I think you’d be useful to us.” Blue Eyes said, popping a salty disk into his mouth before turning to Amber Eyes. 

He was quiet, his angry glare diminishing. His fighting stance didn’t loosen, but he wasn’t ready to spring an attack on Blue Eyes. “What kind of job?” 

“Bodyguarding, sort of. More like a protection business. All you really have to do is look tough and bash a few skulls. Not that hard.” Blue Eyes explained, taking another cracker. “Plus it pays really good. I get about a thousand dollars a week for protecting stores.” 

Amber Eyes loosened up, his eyes widening. A thousand a week? Just to look big and bad and beat up a couple idiots here and there? What the hell kind of job is that?

“Though I guess you have better things to do,” Blue Eyes said, dropping the crackers to the ground and turning away. “I’m sure there’s a gas station needing to be mugged. You could probably get some Twinkie’s if you’re quick enough.” He started walking away, his hands tucked into his pants. 

“Wait!” The plea had escaped his lips before he even processed what he was saying. He chased after the man, nearly crashing into his back. “Where do I start?” 

Blue Eyes turned and smirked at him. “With your name.” 

“Craig Tucker.” 

Blue Eyes looked surprised for a second. “Stan Marsh.” 

Craig hesitated, remembering the name vividly. He remembered this guy from school. Stan had been a sort of outcast loser, hardly ever talking to anyone while he sipped out of his mysterious water bottle that he had always carried around. Craig remembered mocking him for never having any friends, sometimes even going as far as to “accidentally” bump into him in the halls and making him drop his water bottle. That little emo-goth kid was now standing in front of him now, looking healthy and alive and happy. This was  _ the _ Stan Marsh. What the fuck happened? Clearly this job had happened. 

“What? Surprised?” Stan asked, smirking up at Craig. 

Craig was a little nervous now. Stan had packed on the muscle that Craig had lost, and was in good enough shape to easily annihilate Craig. Did Stan still hold that grudge from school? 

Stan suddenly chuckled, scratching the back of his head before turning his eyes to meet Craig’s. “I remember you back in high school. You used to be all big and acted like you were tough shit and like nothing could bring you down.” Stan tried to keep his mocking smirk, but it faltered a bit as he looked Craig up and down again. “What the fuck happened, dude?” 

Craig glanced down at the ground. “I got cocky.” He let out a dry chuckle. “Who would’ve thought that my one personality trait would be my downfall?” 

Stan frowned a little and dropped his hand to his side, staring up at Craig with sympathetic eyes. “You can come stay with me, if you want. Even if you don’t want to work with me, you can at least have a place to sleep.” 

Craig scoffed and stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets, looking across the street. “I don’t need your pity.” He muttered. 

“It’s not pity, dude. I don’t like seeing you suffering, even if you were a total jackass in school.” Stan said. “And I’m being serious about the job. My boss would love to have someone like you, once you gain that muscle back.” 

Craig thought for a second. At least a thousand dollars a week. Where the hell could he find somewhere else like that? And it didn’t even sound that difficult. Just look big and bad, and yeah if he had the muscle it’d be easy. Craig was a whopping 6”4 nineteen year old guy. He could easily scare someone off or beat them up. 

He glanced back at Stan, who was waiting for an answer with an eager look. He really couldn’t pass up on this offer. “Fine,” Craig agreed, sticking his hand out to shake Stan’s. 

Stan beamed, but refused to shake hands. “Great! Unfortunately it’s not up for me to decide. You’d have to meet my boss. But, eh, you might want to shower and get some better clothes. And you should start  working out again.” 

Craig rolled his eyes, but he understood. But the problem was that he didn’t have a place to shower or the money for clothes or a gym pass. But in order to get those things he’d need that job, but...

“Again, if you need a place to stay until you can get the job, my door’s open.” Stan offered once again. 

Craig stared down at Stanley Marsh. Why was he being so nice to him? Why was he offering him a job and a place to stay, when in school Craig had been a total jerk to him and just about everyone else? Plus Craig had just punched him in the face five minutes ago. “Why’re you being so nice to me?” 

Stan shrugged. “I’m just a nice guy, I guess. Plus my boss wants to expand. He’s getting tired of South Park, and I’ll get a raise if I bring more people in.”

“Oh, so you’re just using me to make more money?” Craig demanded, a slight smirk on his lips. 

Stan chuckled. “Yeah, pretty much.” 

Craig laughed as well, before stuffing his hands back into his pockets. A cold wind blew by, nearly blowing away Craig’s old blue chullo hat. The same one from his childhood. He felt goosebumps start to raise on his arms, and the temperature was dropping by the minute. 

Stan rubbed his bare hands and stared up at Craig, locking eye contact. “I’m serious, though. Do you want to crash on my couch or not?” 

Craig sighed. Not like he had much of a choice. “Ok. But just until I get the job.” He agreed reluctantly. 

Stan smiled up and him. “Alright. Let’s get back to my place. I’m technically off duty now. My last job was to come beat you up.” He joked, turning around and starting down the street towards the downtown area. 

“You protect that store?” Craig asked, easily catching up to him. One advantage to being tall was that he could out-stride almost everyone. 

“Yeah. That and a couple others. Most stores pay us two hundred dollars to protect the shop from vandals and shit. I protect five stores, so I get a thousand a week. It’s not that bad. All I really have to do is be in the area and come if I’m called.” Stan explained. 

“So, what, it’s like a gang?” Craig asked, still trying to wrap his head around the concept. 

Stan shrugged. “More or less. And if I remember correctly, you like beating up people.” 

Craig glanced away, a little bit embarrassed. “Sorry. About high school.” 

Stan shrugged. “It’s ok. Well, not really, but I forgive you. Your home life might’ve been shit, who knows.” He said. “I’ve been there. My parents got divorced for, like, a week before getting back together. It was a pretty bad time for me.” Then he sighed and shrugged. “Now they’re divorced again, but I don’t think they’re going to get back together again.”

“Oh. I’m sorry about that.” Craig mumbled, feeling even more guilty now. 

Stan sighed. “Yeah, it was a shitty time. I got depressed, and I had one outburst during class so I got diagnosed with ‘aspergers’ so I got sent to a group.” He chuckled dryly. “They actually didn’t have aspergers. They were just a bunch of alcoholics who turned me to alcohol.” 

Craig glanced at Stan with a horrified expression. “So that water bottle in high school…”

“Was vodka. Yeah, I had some issues.” Stan admitted, rubbing the back of his neck as they turned a corner, passing a photography studio. “I got better, though, so that’s good. I’ve been a whole nine months sober.” He stated, smiling up at Craig. 

“Dude… I’m so sorry,” Craig apologized once again, wanting to do something but not knowing what. 

“Eh, it’s ok. You didn’t know.” 

“It’s really not. I was an asshole to you, and you were going through that shit…” 

Stan stopped and turned to Craig, reaching out and resting a hand on his shoulder. “Seriously, it’s fine. Everyone was an asshole to me, you’re no different.” 

Well that certainly didn’t help Craig’s guilt. “I’m really sorry.” 

Stan shook his head and waved a hand. “I’m ok. Really.” 

“I’m still-”

“Look, you want to make up for it? Quit apologizing and go build some muscle to get the job so I can get a raise.” Stan ordered, staring Craig dead in the eyes.

Craig hesitated, then nodded. Stan smiled a little and removed his hand. “Good. Now hurry up. I’m getting cold.” 

They made it to Stan’s apartment five minute later, and Craig was a little surprised to see that it was the same complex that he used to live in. He followed Stan inside and up to the third - and highest - floor. The inside of Stan’s apartment was almost identical to Craig’s old one. The kitchen and living room were connected, and on the opposite end of the room were two white doors, which Craig knew lead to the bedroom and bathroom. The kitchen was basic with black granite countertops, a black stove, and a stainless steel fridge with an island separating the kitchen from the living room. The kitchen floor was smooth oak wood, while the living room was covered in light grey carpet. The living room had a simple grey loveseat across from an entertainment system complete with a collection of various movies and shows and a PS3 connected to a TV sitting on a black wooden stand. 

Once inside, Craig heard muffled barking coming from the bedroom door. He paused for a second, glancing at Stan.

“That’s just my dog, Izzie. Don’t mind her, she’s a sweetheart.” Stan said, taking his suit jacket off and hanging it on a rack near the door. “Come meet her while she’s in the kennel, that way she’ll get used to you. She doesn’t like strangers.” 

Stan led Craig into the bedroom and flipped on a light. Stan had a king sized bed pressed against one wall with a dresser beside it with a walk-in closet. Near the foot of the bed was a large black kennel, holding Izzie. Izzie was a large brown dog with a black muzzle and a white spot on her neck. Craig noticed that she had a few long scars along her face and around her muzzle. Once she saw Craig her barking got more aggressive, making Craig freeze in his steps. Thank god she was in a kennel. 

“Izzie! Be nice.” Stan ordered, going up to the cage and crouching down next to it. He glanced at Craig and beckoned him over. “Come here and put your hand against the kennel. Let her sniff you.” 

Craig complied and kneeled in front of the cage, urging his heart to calm down as he followed Stan’s order and pressed his palm to the cage. Izzie growled, and Craig almost moved his hand away, but she moved forward hesitantly. She sniffed his hand a little, before glancing up at Stan. Stan smiled and glanced at Craig, patting his shoulder. “He’s a friend, Izzie. Be good.”

Almost as if she understood what he had said, she moved forward and lapped Craig’s hand twice, wagging her long tail. Stan beamed more, before unhooking the latches of the kennel. Izzie came out in full force, barreling into Stan and sending him to the floor as she assaulted his face with her tongue. Stan laughed and rubbed her head furiously while cooing and praising her before pushing her away, wiping his face off as he smiled at Craig. Izzie glanced at Craig as well before cautiously moving to him, sniffing his knee before giving it a curious lick. 

“She likes you.” Stan remarked, giving Craig a friendly smile. “She doesn’t take to people too easily.” 

“What kind of dog is she?” Craig asked, gently scratching her behind the ear. She thumped her tail against the bed as she leaned her head into his hand. 

“She’s a boxer and pitbull mix. She used to be a fight dog before she got sent to the pound.” Stan said, scratching the base of her tail. “She was really mean at first. She used to always growl at me whenever I came home and she always sat in the corner, never taking her eyes off of me. I tried to approach her but she always growled at me. I was stupid one time and went close to her while she was distracted. She turned around and bit me.” He rolled up his sleeve to reveal an old imprint of a bite mark on his forearm.

“Ouch. I would’ve sent her back.” Craig said as Izzie turned back to Stan, pushing her large head into his stomach before laying down on his lap, sighing as she rested her head on his knee. 

“I couldn’t do that. They were going to put her down. So I just gave her some space, and a month later she approached me for the first time, and has turned into a total sweetheart.” Stan remarked as he stroked her flank. “It took five long months but she ended up trusting me in the end, so it was worth it. She’s such a good dog now.” 

“Yeah,” Craig mumbled, smiling a little. 

“Ok, who wants dinner?” Stan asked, the question mostly aimed at Izzie, who leapt off of his lap and bounded over to the kitchen area, her tail wagging wildly in anticipation for food. Stan chuckled and stood up, glancing at Craig. “You can get fed after you take a shower. I’ll spare you some clothes, though they might not fit you.” He warned. 

“That’s fine. Thanks.” Craig said, standing up as well and following Stan out into the living room, only to make a swift left turn into the bathroom. 

It was just like the bathroom Craig remembered from his own apartment. The tile floor was white, and it was complete with a walk-in shower, toilet, and sink with a bit of counter space. Craig started disrobing and folded his dirty clothes on top of the toilet. Then he hopped into the shower and started up the water. He almost yelled when freezing cold jets flew out, but after a few seconds of being pressed against the wall the water warmed up, and Craig allowed himself to stand under the hot jets. 

_ Damn, this feels good _ . He thought to himself, just taking a minute and enjoying the first shower he’d had in a long time. Then he grabbed some of Stan’s shampoo and lathered it into his greasy hair, then rinsing and continuing the cycle with the conditioner. He lathered up his body with a bar of soap while he waited for the conditioner to do its work, and once he was satisfied with how clean his body was he rinsed off, and took a few extra minutes to enjoy the warm water. 

Craig exited the shower and grabbed a towel out of Stan’s closet, quickly drying himself off before wrapping the towel around his waist and glancing at himself in the mirror. His “beard” was rough and prickly, not extending very far and only being about an inch long. His messy hair reached down past his ear and almost met his shoulders. His face looked hollow and he had heavy bags under his eyes. He looked terrible. His torso wasn’t much better, and Craig could easily count his ribs. His lanky arms barely had anything on them, and he looked like a walking skeleton. Damn, Stan really let him into his home? Craig shook his head a little. Stan was too nice sometimes. He sighed and poked his head out of the bathroom.

Stan wasn’t in the apartment anymore, and Craig noticed that Izzie wasn’t either. Craig assumed that Stan went out to walk Izzie and quickly went into Stan’s room. There was a stack of clean clothes on the bed with a little note on top.

_ Feel free to wash your clothes. Laundry room is on the first floor, take a right once you go down the stairs, and it’s at the end of the hallway. I’ll be back in a little bit to make dinner.  _

Craig pulled the clean clothes on, and even though Stan’s shirt was baggy, it barely passed his belly button, and the pants luckily had a string so he could tie it, though he unfortunately had to go commando - he wasn’t going to wear Stan’s boxers nor was he going to put his back on. He felt better once he was clothed, though, so he went back to the bathroom and hung up the towel and grabbed his old clothes. He threw them into a Walmart baggie and noticed a set of keys on the island, which he grabbed and made his way out of the door and down the stairs. 

Craig sat for a full hour and a half waiting for his clothes to be cleaned, and once that was finished he headed back up to Stan’s apartment. He unlocked the door and heard Izzie barking. 

“Izzie!” Stan scolded as Craig went inside. “It’s Craig!” 

Once Izzie saw that it was Craig she started wagging her tail excitedly, leaping off of the couch and bounding up to him, jumping up and licking his arm and hand aggressively. Craig smiled a little and scratched her behind the ear, glancing up at Stan. He had changed from the shirt and jeans to a form fitting white v-neck and basketball shorts, and his hair was still damp. 

“Sorry about her. Just push her down if she gets too overwhelming.” Stan apologized, before swearing at the stove as water started boiling over the pot. 

“What’re you cooking?” Craig asked, gently pushing Izzie to the floor before walking over to Stan. 

“Heh, I was  _ trying  _ to make beef and rice, but, uh, I’m failing.” Stan explained, stirring the pot frantically.

Craig shook his head in mild amusement. “Here, let me help.” He offered. 

“Nah dude, I got it. Just, ah, gimme a minute to control it.” Stan insisted, still trying to frantically tame the bubbles and failing. 

Craig walked over to Stan and took the spoon out of his hand, taking the pot and lifting it off of the stove and stirring it until the bubbles died down. Then he placed the pot down on the burner again, salted it, placed the lid over it, and turned the heat down just a tad. Then he turned to where the beef was and took the knife, slicing it into thin strips before adding it to a pan. He began seasoning it while Stan watched in awe as Craig worked. 

“Dude, since when do you know how to cook?” Stan asked.

Craig shrugged. His dad didn’t know how to cook. When Craig was an angsty teen rebel he decided that he didn’t want to be like his dad, so he learned how to prepare his own food. It wasn’t like his dad was a bad father or anything, Craig just didn’t want to be like him. Stupid teen rebellion. “My mom taught me.” 

“That’s cool. I never really learned because I didn’t really care,” Stan said with a shrug. “Then again I mostly eat out nowadays. Before that all I did was pop some ramen into the microwave and called it good.”

Craig chuckled. “You’re so healthy.” 

“Right?” Stan laughed, sneaking up behind Craig and reaching down into a cupboard, resurfacing with a bag of dog food in his hands, and Izzie went berserk. She skidded in the kitchen up to Stan’s feet, growling lowly as her tail thumped excitedly. Stan laughed and rubbed the top of her head before walking over to her dog dish. “Izzie, sit!” 

Izzie obediently sat down two feet away from her dog dish while Stan filled it. Once he straightened up she lunged over and began scarfing it up. Stan smiled and returned the food, just as Craig began draining the rice. “Where are your bowls?” 

“I got ‘em.” Stan said, taking two bowls out of the cabinet and setting them beside the stove where Craig was working. Craig added the rice first and then topped it with the beef. 

The two teens took their bowls in the living room and lounged on the couch, Craig sighing as he felt comfort for the first time in a long time. He could easily sleep on this. But the aroma of the beef and rice was making his stomach clench with hunger. He took a bite and nearly melted at the tangy meat mixed with the salty rice. God, he was in heaven. 

“Holy shit, dude, this is fucking amazing!” Stan exclaimed, nearly inhaling his dish. “Fuck, if you don’t get the job then you can just live here and be my cook.”

Craig laughed. “A paid cook?” 

“Well I mean, I’ll let you live here and in exchange you can cook for me every night.” Stan joked, stuffing some rice into his mouth. 

Craig chuckled as well, just as Stan grabbed the remote control and flipped the television on, allowing the hum to fill the room as fictional characters battled it out onscreen. Craig watched with minimal interest, thinking over the events of that day. A few hours ago he had been hiding behind a dumpster to avoid being mugged, and now he was relaxing in a warm apartment with a belly full of food. 

He could get used to this. 

~~~

A month had passed since Stan had rescued him and Craig was back in his prime. Having hit the gym every day and bulking up, Craig was proud of his appearance and was ready for whatever life threw at him.

At the time he hadn’t realized what that would entail. 

He followed Stan into the bar that was just on the outside of his little mountain town. Craig had fond memories of the bar, seeing as the bartender would give him free booze in exchange for a quickie when Craig was in high school. Craig had never minded, in fact the bartender had been rather attractive, and the best part was that he was only a couple years older than Craig. Those had been some of the best nights of his life. And hell, sometimes Craig would go there just for the sex. Craig wondered if the same bartender still worked there. 

Stan pushed the door open and held it for Craig, who entered rather confidently. The bar hadn’t changed all that much since Craig had been there last. The cement floor was still littered with old beer stains, smoke clouded the air, and the bar on the far side was stocked up with cheap beer and liquor. Managing the bar was a familiar face, one that Craig hadn’t seen in about a year. 

“Yo, Stan my man!” Kenny McCormick called, grinning and waving enthusiastically. Kenny hadn’t changed since Craig had last seen him. He still had a goofy smile and was wearing that same orange parka with the sleeves rolled up and the zipper opened, revealing nothing but a grey shirt underneath. His sparkling blue eyes still shone, and Craig felt a familiar attraction towards the man again. When Kenny saw Craig, his smile faultered a bit, but he still waved. Craig waved back, though awkwardly. 

“Hey Kenny. I’ll take a gin and tonic, hold the ice.” Stan asked when he approached the bar. Then he glanced at Craig. “And he’ll take the Manhattan, on the rocks.” 

Kenny’s smile fell completely. “Sir I’m going to need to see some ID’s.” He ordered seriously. 

At once Craig knew this was some sort of secret code. Kenny wasn’t the kind of guy to ID people he knew, unless there were police in the store, which there weren’t. Why would there be a need for a secret code, though? 

“I, uh, forgot it. Do you have yours?” Stan asked Craig. Though the way he asked, Craig knew he wasn’t serious. 

“No.”

“Then I’ll need you two to come with me.” Kenny ordered, walking out from behind the bar and grabbed Stan and Craig both by the shoulder, dragging them harshly towards the bathroom. Before the bathroom there was a door that led behind the bar shelves, and though Craig had always been curious as to what was through there, he’d never bothered asking Kenny to take him behind the door. 

Kenny pulled out a set of keys and used one to unlock the door, roughly shoving Craig and Stan inside before quickly shutting and locking the door behind him. Then he flipped on a light switch, which revealed a room full of boxed up booze. Craig glanced at Stan in confusion, yet the shorter man said nothing as he headed down the hallway full of alcohol. Before Craig could follow, Kenny grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed him against a stack of crates. 

“Hey, what the fuck-”

“Shut up. This is protocol.” Kenny muttered gruffly, grabbing his wrists and holding them above his head before thoroughly patting his body from head to toe. “Besides, it’s not like you mind being touched.” Craig’s cheeks flushed with red. 

Once Craig had been thoroughly frisked, he followed Stan silently with Kenny on his heel. Just before they hit the end of the hallway, though, Stan took a sharp left and moved a couple crates of Jack Daniels to the side, revealing another door. Craig watched as Stan punched in a combination, and with a confirming  _ click _ , the door was unlocked. Craig got an eerie sinking feeling as Stan opened the door. 

The room inside had a nice wooden floor that seemed freshly polished, with a large green shag rug in the center of the room. On the far end was a dark wood desk with a couple of dark purple cushioned chairs sitting across from in. Behind the desk was a rather fat man with a glass of what whiskey in his chubby hand. His light brown hair was combed neatly to the side and he wore a light brown suit with a red tie. He was reading through a stack of papers when they entered, though he glanced up from them when the three men entered. His left eye was light brown, much like his hair, while the other was blue, very similar to Kenny’s. Craig’s shoulders felt heavy with dread as Kenny closed the door behind them, sealing their fate. 

“Marsh,” the fat man greeted coldly, his eyes never leaving Craig.

“Morning, boss. A bit early for a drink, isn’t it?” Stan said with a joking warmth in his voice. 

“It’s five o’clock somewhere. Who’s the new guy? Is he your bonus?” The boss asked, taking a sip of the whiskey. 

“Yeah. This is Craig Tucker. Craig, this is my boss.” Stan introduced, walking forward until he stood by one of the cushioned chairs in front of the desk. Kenny moved to stand by the boss, his hands held together in front of him.

The boss merely set the drink down and leaned back in his seat, his chubby arms going to rest on the arm rests of the office chair he was sitting in. He eyeballed Craig for a long time, as though he were searching for something. Craig stood tall and sturdy, refusing to let his stance waver under the inspecting eyes of what could be his future employer. Typically during a job interview you were supposed to shake hands with your potential boss and ask them how they were doing. But something told Craig that wasn’t how this interview would work. 

Finally the boss sighed, glancing at Stan. “Well, not bad. Does he know what we do?” 

“No sir,” Stan admitted, “I didn’t think you’d want someone outside knowing what we do.” 

“Good man.” The boss turned his attention to Craig. “Why’re you standing so far away? You know I won’t shoot you.” The boss chuckled at his remark. “Well, even if I wanted to, you’re not that far away. It’d still be easy.” 

Craig swallowed the lump in his throat and hesitantly took a few steps forward until he was directly in front of the desk. “That’s better. So, Craig, tell me about yourself. You’re interested in a job, aren’t you?”

“Yessir,” Craig said. “I’m 19, very reliable, have decent cooking skills-”

The boss chuckled. “Why would you need cooking skills? We’re not cannibals.” 

Craig blinked. “Er, you said tell me about myself, so I thought-”

“Craig, you really have no idea what’s going on, do you?” The boss demanded, his light tone suddenly darkening into something heavy. 

“No, I don’t.” 

The boss took a deep breath in through his nose before letting it out slowly. The boss then glanced at Kenny. “Did you frisk him?” 

“Yes boss,” Kenny said. 

“Good. How good are you at bashing skulls, Craig?” He asked, taking another sip of whiskey. 

Craig blinked in surprise. “Pretty good, I think.” He decided it was probably better not to question the boss’s thinking. 

“Ok. And given your stance, I’d say you’re pretty intimidating. That’s good.” He turned his multicolored gaze onto Craig, and something about the atmosphere in the room shifted. “Do you know what a gang is?”

“Yessir.”

“Do you know what a mafia is?”

Craig hesitated before answering. “Yes.” 

“How comfortable are you with violence, Craig?” 

“What kind of violence?” 

The boss waited a moment before reaching into his desk and pulling out a Ruger SP101 and placing it on the surface of the desk. “This kind of violence.” 

“Jesus Christ Cartman!” Stan exclaimed. 

“Pipe it, Marsh!” Cartman, the boss, snapped, glaring at Stan before turning to Craig. “Craig, this is a mafia, incase you were still confused. And mafias involve violence.” 

“Since when? You said this was a small gang and we would just be scaring punks away from stores! Occasionally beating them up!” Stan protested. 

“Will you shut the fuck up, Stan?” Cartman roared. Then he whipped around to look at Kenny. “Bring him out.” 

“Bring who out?” Stan demanded. 

Kenny was already heading towards a closet off to the side of the room. He opened the door and dragged a struggling figure out of the closet. He pulled the bound man over to where Craig was standing, and before he could try standing up Kenny kicked down hard on his shin. He yelled out through his duct taped mouth, tears beading out of his eyes. 

“Cartman, what the fuck are you doing?” Stan demanded, glaring hard at the boss. 

He refused to answer Stan and instead lifted the gun up, offering the handle of the revolver to Craig. “Shoot him.” 

“WOAH! CARTMAN, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!” Stan roared. 

“Dammit Stan! We have to do this!” Cartman bellowed, standing up abruptly from his desk. “People are getting more dangerous with each fucking say that passes! This guy killed Scott! Fucking Scott! If we want to be taken seriously, we can’t be afraid to get our hands dirty!” 

Stan opened his mouth as if he were going to protest, but upon hearing about Scott’s death, he closed his mouth, eyes wide with shock. “Scott’s dead?”

“Yes! This fucker killed him last night after robbing a liquor store! He stabbed Scott, and if it hadn’t been for Kenny then he would’ve gotten away with it. You know how shitty the cops are around here.” Cartman stated, turning his hardened gaze to Craig. “Now take the gun and shoot this fucking asshole!” 

Craig hesitantly took the gun and turned to the guy kneeling beside him. His dusty brown hair hung over his panicked green eyes. Craig weighed the gun in his hand and glanced up at Stan. He was standing in silent shock, staring at Craig. He looked torn between sorrow and guilt. And he had a judgemental look in his eyes, as though Craig’s decision would alter his opinion of him.

Wait, it did.

Craig looked down at the prisoner, the gun heavy in his sweaty hands. Could he really do this? Did he want to do this?

“Well? Do you want a job or not?” Cartman demanded, rather impatiently. 

Craig swallowed and aimed the gun towards the prisoner, lining the barrel up between his eyes. He swallowed heavily, his hand shaking violently as he felt panic setting in. Oh fuck, there was no way in hell he could actually do this. He couldn’t shoot someone. He couldn’t kill him!

“I-I can’t. I can’t do it.” Craig stuttered, his mouth and throat dry. He lowered the shaky gun. 

Cartman sighed heavily. “Stan, Craig, this is what we have to do now. Either you shoot this guy, or I shoot you. One or the other.” 

Craig’s eyes bulged. Seriously? He looked down at the guy again, and he was shaking his head violently.

“Cartman, this isn’t ok.” Stan said. 

“Oh, but him killing one of our men is?” Cartman demanded. “Shoot this fucker, Craig!”

Craig cleared his throat and lifted the gun up again, though this time it was a lot less shaky.  _ It’s him or me. It’s him or me.  _

He pulled the trigger. 


	2. Seven Years Later

Craig browsed through a stack of papers, a troubled look on his face.

 _Damn Warner_. He thought as he focused on a single sheet. Fucking Bryce Warner had a warrant out for his arrest. He sighed and rubbed his temple. He grabbed the phone off of his desk and dialed Heidi Broflovski's number. He waited a moment as it rang before he heard a soft voice on the other end.

“ _Broflovski Law Firm_. How can we help you?” Heidi asked sweetly.

“It’s Tucker. I need to make an appointment with Kyle for seven o’clock today. It’s urgent.” Craig muttered grumpily.

Heidi hesitated a moment, then responded with, “Ok Mr. Tucker. We have you scheduled for eight, if that’s ok.”

“That’s fine.” Craig said before hanging up. He leaned back in his office chair with a sigh, closing his eyes. His office in Colorado Springs smelt like papers, artificial ocean from a candle, and dust. He listened to the grandfather clock across the room tick with each passing second, peace engulfing him temporarily.

Ever since he had killed that man in South Park, Craig had never been the same. He still vividly remembered Stan’s look of shock and horror as the man's’ blood spilled over the wooden floor. He remembered his own feeling of horror rising. Craig could still sometimes smell the pungent, salty blood mixed with lemon wax. He tried not to think about it too much. After all, he was living the life now. He was high on the Mafia Pyramid, just below Stan, though he hadn’t seen him for some time. Craig could safely say that he had little to no regrets of killing that man. He had much more blood on his hands now anyway. He still remembered what Cartman had said after he shot the man.

 _The room was dead silent after the dull_ thud _of the man’s body. Even Cartman was quiet. He was staring at the dead man before him with wide eyes, and then those eyes turned to Craig after a moment. Craig swallowed the lump in his throat as he gently set the revolver down on Cartman’s desk. The gun sounded so heavy as it hit the wood._

_The deed was done._

_“Craig, look at me.” Cartman ordered, though his words were faint, almost as if he were in another room. But Craig turned his glazed eyes onto the boss, feeling as though every muscle in his body had simultaneously melted and stiffened. Cartman had a strange look on his face, almost as if the horrific event before him hadn’t happened. Instead he now looked… hopeful. “I promise you, you won’t regret this.”_

His phone suddenly began ringing on his desk again, and Craig groaned softly as he opened his eyes and answered it. “Hello?” He grumbled.

“Jeez, you could at least pretend that you’re happy to hear from me.” _Donovan. Clyde Donovan. Just what I need._

“What do you want, Clyde?” Craig growled.

“Nothing much. Just wanted to know if you want to hang out in Denver.” Clyde said cheerfully.

“No. I’m busy.”

“Even on your birthday?” Clyde whined.

Craig squeezed his eyes shut and began rubbing his temple. He knew he never should’ve told Clyde when his birthday was. Craig had never really been a big fan of birthdays, especially this one.

“Don’t remind me.” He muttered.

“Damn, someone sounds grumpy. I mean, you’re not that old.” Clyde pointed out. And it was true, in a sense. Twenty-six wasn’t exactly “old”, but for some reason it sounded just as bad as thirty. Maybe it was because after you hit twenty-five it seemed like everything slowed down? Yeah, sure. That was a good excuse.

“Shut up, Clyde. What do you want?” Craig demanded.

“I already told you. I was wondering if you’d want to come to Denver so we could celebrate your birthday properly!” He exclaimed.

“I swear to fuck if you take me to another goddamn strip club-”

“I know, I know. You’re gay. That’s why we’re going to a bisexual strip club! Guys and girls dancing! It’s gonna be great!” Clyde exclaimed excitedly.

Craig let out a long breath through his nose, groaning at the mere idea of going to a strip club. Craig liked to think that he was classy and mature. Strip clubs had never enticed him before, but given the fact that he was very close friends with a stupid twenty-two year old, he had been exposed to a lot more immature scenarios than he’d like. But it was his birthday. He might as well try to get laid, even if it was with a flashy stripper. Besides, he was going to Denver anyway to get Kyle to clear up his man’s name.

“If I say ‘yes’, then will you quit crying?” Craig asked finally.

“Hey, I’m not crying. But hell yeah! We’re getting lucky tonight! Oh, do you mind if I bring my girl with us?” Clyde asked

“Do you really think she’d want you to go to a strip club?” Craig asked doubtfully.

“Nah, she’s cool with it. Hell we’ll probably both be throwing money at strippers. Just as long as I don’t disappear with another girl I don’t think she’ll care.” Clyde said. “And if another guy _tries_ to get with _my_ girl, he won’t walk away unscathed.”

Craig smirked a bit. Clyde could be a bit clumsy and just generally lack common sense sometimes, but if someone threatened his relationship with Bebe Stevens, he could be one scary motherfucker. “Well I’m gonna let you go. I got some business in Denver anyway. I’ll see you tonight.” Craig said.

“Nine o’clock sharp!”

Craig ended the call there and stood up. He walked over to the mirror that hung on his wall and began straightening out his suit. He was wearing a grey striped suit with a blue tie, and his hair was combed off to the side with a slight wave in it. He stared at himself for a while, just making sure he looked decent. His face was cleanly shaven now, much more different than when he had been rescued by Stan. The bags under his amber eyes were slightly more prominent. His job was very stressful, which was something he hadn’t bargained for when he first got it. Then again, he had never expected himself to be a murdered either. He still had the muscle from seven years ago when he’d first joined the Mountain Mafia, hell he’d say he had more muscle now than ever, and the suit clearly showed it. He was proud of his body.

Thomas had been proud of it, too.

At the thought of his ex, Craig felt his chest compress a little bit. It had been nearly three months since he’d come home to find his lover of six months in bed with another guy. The pain was still fresh, seeing as how he’d been Craig’s first actual boyfriend in quite a few years. Craig had never been big on dating, but Thomas had been special. Thomas had made Craig fall head over heels for within the first month of their relationship, and Craig thought he had been doing everything right. But unfortunately, it appeared as though he hadn’t. Craig never really knew what had went wrong with him and Thomas, and part of him didn’t really want to know. As soon as Craig had seen them in the middle of the act, he had grabbed his keys and left the house. He now lived on the other side of town and had avoided Thomas ever since.

But that was in the past. It was history. Besides, it wasn’t like Thomas knew who Craig was or what he did. Craig may have loved him, but he hadn’t told him about the mafia or his involvement in it. As far as Thomas knew, he was just a car salesman.

Craig then took his keys, Bryce Warner’s paperwork, and his heavy winter coat and headed out of his office.

His secretary glanced up as Craig went through the door, locking it behind him.

“Afternoon, Mr. Tucker.” His secretary, Nichole Black, greeted.

“Hey Nichole. I’ll be out for the rest of the day.” Craig said.

“Ok, I’ll fax you your mail.” Nichole informed him, typing away at the computer in front of her.

“Good. I’ll be back tomorrow.” He said, and with that, he headed out.

~~~

The drive to Denver was alright, nothing too special or fun. He pulled his black charger into a parking garage and then walked two blocks to where the _Broflovski Law Firm_ was located.

The law firm was a smaller building squashed between two skyscrapers, and the sign above the door was nothing fancy. Just a simple white board with black cursive letters saying _Broflovski Law Firm_. As Craig reached for the door it pushed open from the other side. Stan Marsh was chuckling, but he paused when he saw Craig.

“Hey dude,” Stan mumbled, standing awkwardly in the doorway.

“Stan.” Craig murmured, standing equally awkwardly. It had been about seven months since he had last seen Stan Marsh.

“What’re you doing here?” Stan asked.

“Some idiot in Colorado Springs has a warrant out for his arrest.” Craig scoffed, and Stan chuckled.

“What’d he do?”

“Dumbass got caught beating someone senselessly.” Craig growled. “This is _just_ what I needed today.”

“Oh yeah, I feel ya.” Stan laughed.

“What about you?”

“Oh, I’m friends with Kyle. I was just stopping by to see how he and Heidi were doing. Hannah’s here today, so that was fun.” Stan said.

“Oh really? How’s she doing?”

Stan chuckled. “Well she’s running around like a madman, giving Heidi a migraine and Kyle’s been locked in his office for ‘work’.”

Craig chuckled as well. Man he missed hanging out with Stan. Maybe he could join him and Clyde and go to the strip club later that night? “What’re you doing later?”

“Work. Why?”

“Just wondering if you’d like to go to a strip club with me and a friend.” Craig shrugged.

Stan arched an eyebrow. “Strip club? Didn’t think you were the type to go to one of those.”

Craig sighed. “I’m not, but my friend is insisting I go with him. And hell, it’s my birthday. May as well do something other than work.”

Stan’s eyes widened. “Shit man, I forgot! The big twenty-five, huh?”

“Twenty-six.” Craig scoffed. “Shit I’m old.”

Stan bellowed at his statement. “Dude you’re not that old. Shit the boss is thirty-two!”

Craig rolled his eyes. “Point is I’m too old to be going to a fucking strip club.”

Stan shrugged. “I would join you, but I don’t think my fiancé would appreciate me going to a strip club.”

Craig’s eyes widened. “You’re engaged?”

Stan smiled shyly and nodded. “Yeah. We-” suddenly Stan’s phone started ringing in his pocket, cutting his sentence off. He took his phone out and once he saw the caller ID, his eyes softened. “It’s her. I can’t go tonight, but we could get coffee tomorrow, if you want.”

“Sounds good. See ya, Marsh.” Craig waved his old friend off as he headed inside.

The lobby to _Broflovski Law Firm_ had smooth light green walls and light wooden flooring with some dark brown couches pressed against the walls. On the far end of the room was a dark brown oak desk with several little things as well as a computer on it. Behind the desk was a petite woman with medium length ashy brown hair that was combed neatly, and in the middle of the room, playing with one of those bead roller coasters was a small girl with wildly curly brown hair. The girl looked up as Craig entered and her hazel eyes widened with excitement.

“Mommy! Mommy! We have a customer! We have a customer!” Hannah screamed at the top of her lungs.

Heidi smiled tiredly. “Yes honey, I see him.”

Hannah turned to Craig and stood up, racing over to him as fast as her little legs could carry her. “Are you here to see Daddy?”

“Yeah,” Craig said, walking past Hannah and up to Heidi’s desk. “Is Kyle ready to see me?”

“Um, one second,” she murmured, picking up the phone on her desk and pressing a few digits. Hannah, meanwhile, had grabbed a stuffed fox and had run back up to Craig.

“Look! Look at my toy! Mommy and Daddy got it for me on Hanukkah!” She exclaimed, thrusting the fox up to Craig so he could get a better look at it.

“Sweetie, go play with it somewhere else, ok? Don’t bother Mr. Tucker.” Heidi scolded. “Hi Kyle. Mr. Tucker is here to see you.”

Hannah pouted, and completely ignored her mother as she tugged on Craig’s pant leg. “You’re really tall.” She observed.

Craig smiled down politely at the young child. “Yeah, I am.” He said.

“You’re way taller than Daddy. Mommy says I’m gonna be taller than him when I grow up!” Hannah declared. “Wanna see my picture?”

“Mr. Tucker, Mr. Broflovski will see you now.” Heidi quickly said as she hung up, smiling kindly up at him.

“Thanks, Heidi.” Craig mumbled, once again walking past Hannah and into a room off to the right of the room.

He walked up the stairs until he got to the fourth floor, and then he knocked on the door that had big bold letters saying _Broflovski_.

“Come in!” Kyle called.

Craig entered the small room. It had the same flooring as the lobby, however there was a white rug in the center of the room sitting below Kyle’s desk. The walls had multiple bulletin boards with papers tacked up against them. Behind the desk against the cream colored wall were multiple filing cabinets, while the desk itself was fairly organized, minus a few papers cluttering a corner of it. A shiny gold name tag with the name _K. Broflovski_ was sitting on the edge of the desk, and sitting at it was the man himself. Kyle Broflovski was a short man who was probably in his mid-to-late twenties, had fluffy ginger hair that was kept neatly under a kippah, indicating that the poor guy was already starting to go bald. He was rather thin for his age, with a thin face and a small tuft of red hair on his chin. His hazel eyes matched his daughters’, and they peered up over his reading glasses when Craig walked in.

“Ah, Craig. What can I do for you?” Kyle asked as he set aside some papers he had been studying.

“I got a man with a warrant out for aggravated assault.” Craig said, pulling off his winter coat and hanging it up on the coat rack. Then he took a seat in front of Kyle’s desk, offering him the stack of papers for Bryce.

Kyle took them and began skimming through them, exhaling loudly through his large, sharp nose. “Ah, Warner’s back at it again, I see.” He muttered. “I swear to god this is the last time I’m representing him.”

Craig chuckled. “Good luck telling him that. The guy’s a psycho.”

Kyle sighed as he neatly stacked the papers against his desk, clipping them together with a paperclip and turning around to gently place them in a filing cabinet.

“I see Hannah’s been lively, as always.” Craig remarked.

Kyle chuckled as he spun back around in his chair to face Craig. “Yeah. We’ve spent so much money on aspirin for Heidi’s headaches. Don’t know what the hell we were thinking when we decided that we wanted a kid.”

“Probably seemed like a good idea at the time. And hey, bet the process was fun.” Craig joked, but Kyle groaned.

“Don’t even get me started on that. You know how it hurts a girl to sit after a night of good sex? Imagine having to get hard every single moment, of every single day, and ejaculating every hour. For a month straight. It’s fucking exhausting!” Kyle exclaimed, and Craig laughed.

“Good thing I’ll never make kids.” Craig remarked.

Kyle shook his head as he reorganized his desk. “Just wait until you find the right girl. She’ll make you rethink everything you thought you knew.”

Craig chuckled, knowing that no matter how smart Kyle was, he was wrong. He’d never have to “make” a kid. Women had never attracted him, and the only times he could remember having a girlfriend were in high school, but only because he didn’t want his parents catching on that he liked men.

Craig had always liked guys, from as far back as he could remember. In third grade his friend always used to brag about how he had a girlfriend, but for some odd reason Craig had never thought any of the girls in his grade were cute. It wasn’t until middle school did he realize that he was gay. It had been at a party, and he and a group of friends had decided to play spin the bottle. When Craig had spun it had landed on a guy that every girl in the school was infatuated with, and one that Craig had been attracted to, though at the time he had always assumed it was out of admiration. At first he had refused to kiss the other dude, but everyone called them chicken until they relented. Craig’s life had never been the same again. Unfortunately he was never comfortable with the idea that he had a crush on a guy, so he buried the secret deep down until high school, when he met Kenny McCormick. It was an interesting encounter. Craig had been caught with a fake ID to try to get alcohol at Kenny’s bar when he was seventeen. Kenny had taken the teen out to the back of the bar with the intention of threatening him. And damn, that was a hell of a lecture. But Craig had the strange urge to go back and try again a week later, and Kenny had caught on quickly that Craig thought he was attractive, and then they made little deals of how to get Craig alcohol. The plan was simple enough; Craig would go in with the fake ID once a week on Tuesday nights, and they’d blow each other behind the bar, but after two weeks of the arrangement, things quickly escalated into full-blown sex. Craig had lost his virginity to Kenny, and he had thanked Kenny for the roughness of his first time. But once Craig ended up homeless, he never had time to go to the bar for the usual rounds. Besides, why would Kenny want to fuck some smelly hobo? That was in the past though. Kenny was a successful hit man in the mafia now. If someone had a dirty job needing to be done, or needed help cleaning up a body, Kenny was their man.

Kyle finished chuckling and glanced at the watch on his wrist. “Shit, it’s already eight?” He muttered, turning his hazel eyes up to Craig. “We need to close up soon.”

Craig shrugged and stood up, smoothing his suit down. “Well then. Just call me when you get more information on Warner, ok?”

“Yessir.” Kyle confirmed, standing up and shaking Craig’s hand. One weird thing about being so high up on the Mafia Pyramid was that everyone below him addressed him so formally. He liked to think that he and Kyle were at least friends.

He grabbed his coat and headed out of the lobby, waving goodbye to Heidi while messing up Hannah’s already messy hair. When he left the building he checked his phone, finding that it was already almost nine o’clock. He also had a text from Clyde with the address of the strip club, and with a sigh, Craig took out his keys and headed to his car, already dreading that night.


	3. Adam and Eve’s

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here’s a long update for the long wait

On top of a ten story floored roof in the middle of downtown Denver sat Kenny McCormick. He was dressed in a dark purple suit with a neon green question mark plastered to his chest. His cape billowed behind him as he laid on the ground, peering through the scope of his sniper rifle, his target clearly in sight. 

“Have you found him yet?” Jason White demanded through the earpiece in Kenny’s right ear. 

“Yeah,” Kenny answered, glancing down at the phone in his hand. His bank account had yet to increase with the payment he was supposed to be receiving for this assassination. “Have you found my two-hundred grand yet?” 

“Like I said, McCormick, you’ll get the money once you get the job done.” White said. 

Kenny let out a disappointed sigh, watching as his target kept his conversation with his associates going. “C’mon, White. You know that’s not how I work.” 

Jason snarled, and with a little  _ ding _ , Kenny’s balance had been increased by two-hundred thousand dollars. “There. Happy?”

Kenny smirked a bit as he watched his target. “Y’know, I should up the pay for all the trouble you’ve caused me. This guy wasn’t easy to find.” He remarked. “That and you wasting my time.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jason demanded angrily. 

Meanwhile the target answered his phone, and after a couple seconds he ended the call and waved his arm near a curb. The nearest taxicab was less than a block away, and it’d reach his target in approximately thirty seconds. 

“Well he’s about to disappear again. Still waiting on my three-hundred K.” Kenny said, keeping his scope lined up with the target’s forehead.  _ Twenty-five seconds. _

“You can’t be serious.” Jason muttered. 

“Oh, but I am.” Kenny said. The taxi was getting closer and closer to the target.  _ Twenty seconds _ . 

“How do I even know you found the target? What if you’re pulling my leg for extra cash?” Jason demanded. The car in front of the taxi slowed to a halt, and a young couple laughing drunkly poured out of it. Then the Uber started forward again, and the taxi continued.  _ Ten seconds.  _

“Guess you’ll just have to trust me, huh?” Kenny smirked.  _ Five, four, three... _

“Ok! Ok! Fine!” Jason snapped, and with another  _ ding _ , Kenny had five-hundred grand from this job. 

Kenny lined the barrel of the rife back up with his target, aiming directly at the man’s skull. The taxi stopped next to him, and just as he opened the door, Kenny pulled the trigger. The poor bastards’ head exploded on impact, and after a second he fell backwards and hit the pavement. The busy sounds of Denver traffic were drowned out with the terrified screams of the pedestrians who had witnessed the murder. Kenny stood up with his rifle and pulled a Marlboro Red case out of his pocket, lighting the cigarette up. 

“It’s done.” Kenny said as he released a breath of smoke into the air. “Pleasure doing business with you.” 

“Whatever. Asshole.” Jason growled, and the headset in Kenny’s ear clicked, signaling the end of the call. 

He bent down and began disassembling his rifle and packing it into his guitar case, when his phone alerted him of a text message. He unlocked his phone to find that Marjorine had messaged him. 

**Buttercup <3 (20:23, 1/25/09)**

**-Hey, what’re you up to?**

Kenny smiled at the text before sending a quick response. The sound of police and ambulance sirens were already howling down the streets. 

**-nothing much**

**just finished a little job**

**you?**

He grabbed his blue jeans and orange parka that were laying on the ground beside the guitar case and threw them on, covering up Mysterion’s identity once again. He wasn’t really a superhero, nor was he a super villain. He preferred to think of himself as more of an antihero, not causing good or bad for the world. Just sort of doing his own thing, which was killing for money. Kenny never knew what his targets had done or why they were on his hit list, and he never really wanted to know. As far as he was concerned, those people had done something that could harm the mafia or a particular higher up. 

**Buttercup <3 (20:24 1/25/09)**

**-Just got home.**

**It’s been a long day >.<**

Kenny smiled softly before typing a quick response as he slung the guitar pack over his shoulder. 

**-what do you say to another**

**season of greys anatomy?**

**-Normally I’d say “YES!!!”,**

**but the club needs me tonight :(**

**-ill walk you there**

Kenny took another drag of his cigarette as he began running towards another roof behind his building, taking a giant leap once he was on the edge. He landed safely, and began making his way towards Marjorine’s apartment. 

~~~

Kenny opened the door to room number 411 on the fourth floor of the apartment complex where Marjorine lived. He was greeted with the soft smell of peppermint candle. On Marjorine’s small maroon leather couch had a white backpack that was partially unzipped. Marjorine’s apartment was small and only had one bedroom. The flooring was a nice dark pine wood and the walls were pale cream. Across the room was the open archway that led into the kitchen, and to the left were two doors. One was opened, and Kenny could see movement inside the dark room. 

“Ken?” A sweet southern accent rang through the small apartment from the bedroom. Kenny felt his heart skip a beat as Marjorine called his name. It had always done that in the four years that he had known her. 

“Yo?” He called back, setting his guitar case beside the door. He started heading into the bedroom. 

He knocked on the door before opening it a tad. Marjorine was standing at her dresser, just finishing pulling a light grey sweatshirt over her head. When Kenny entered, she turned and gave him a sweet smile, and once again, Kenny’s heart stopped. He was surprised that she hadn’t given him a heart attack yet. Marjorine was a petite woman with soft and subtle curves. Her electric blue eyes and dazzling smile could make even the toughest, most cold-hearted members of the mafia’s heart melt. Her long blonde hair was in two pigtails that rested over her shoulders, and she was wearing a grey college sweatshirt and light blue jeans as well as a pair of white tennis shoes. 

“Ready to go?” She asked, gazing up at him expectantly. 

Kenny, however couldn’t take his eyes off of Marjorine and speak. She hadn’t always been this gorgeous, well at least not physically. Not like physical beauty mattered to Kenny. At one point in time, Marjorine Ellis Stotch has been known as Leopold Arthur Stotch. Kenny had fallen in love with Leo from the start, and after just six months of knowing the man, Leo had told Kenny a heavy, dark secret. Leo had hated being a man, and had always dreamed of what it’d be like to be a beautiful woman. Upon hearing Leo’s dream, Kenny made it happen. He, despite all of Leo’s protests, paid for all of the surgery and all of the medications and therapy that it took for his friend to become a woman. Three years later with most of the scarring had healed, Marjorine was happy with her life. She lived on her own, had a good job being a nurse at  _ Presbyterian St. Luke's Medical Center _ and  _ Adam and Eve’s _ , and was a pretty lady. Just what she had always wanted. 

Marjorine had been born in Kauai, Hawaii, but had grown up in Houston, Texas. She didn’t talk about her life in Texas often, and Kenny’s knowledge of her life there was extremely limited. All he knew was that she had had a horse named Toast, and that she no longer spoke to her parents. Kenny had a feeling that they were bad people, but he never asked her about it in fear of bringing up the past and upsetting her. She was happy now, and that was all that mattered. 

Marjorine’s eyebrows bunched up in concern. “Ken? Is everythin’ alright?” She asked. 

Kenny felt his face flush red with embarrassment, and was extremely glad that the lights were off and that the room was dark. “Yeah, just thinking.” He muttered. 

Marjorine pouted a bit. “How did the job go?” She asked softly. 

Kenny shrugged. “The job is done. That’s all that matters.” He said. 

Marjorine frowned. “You know you can talk to me about anythin’, right?” She murmured softly, taking one of Kenny’s large calloused hands into one of her small soft ones. 

Kenny’s heart leapt into his throat. She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. In all honesty, the jobs Kenny performed never bothered him. Part of him was just dark like that. Or maybe it was due to his “superpower” that made things easier. He didn’t think about all the grief he had caused the families of his victims, knowing well that most ended up in Hell for their sins. Sure it was a bit awkward every time he visited Hell and met up with their displeased souls. He had met a few who were broken messes after leaving their loved ones behind, but Kenny had made a deal with Satan; those who were truly grieving for their losses could try and have a shot at getting to Heaven. In exchange, Kenny would be gone for another day and more people, specifically Marjorine, would mourn for an extra day. Kenny hated hurting Marjorine like that, but when he was reborn into his bed, none of it mattered. No one remembered Kenny’s awful death, which came in handy for if he ever got in trouble with the police. In a way he was cheating at life. But who honestly gave a shit? Not like anyone remembered anything. 

“I know,” Kenny murmured, squeezing Marjorine’s hand. Then he pulled her in and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly as he took a deep breath of her lemon vanilla perfume. God, Marjorine was amazing. 

She hugged him back silently, scratching his hair softly while burying her face in his shoulder. Kenny felt bad for making her worry about him. He wanted to tell her that none of their death’s bothered him, but he didn’t want to come across as an insane psychopath who took pleasure in murdering people for the mafia. 

Marjorine was the one to pull away, tucking a strand of hair behind Kenny’s ear while smiling sweetly at him. She was easily his best friend, and he trusted all of his secrets with her, except for one, but she would never remember it if he had told her. 

The moment was interrupted with Marjorine’s phone going off. She checked it and sighed. “Time to go to work.” She muttered. 

“C’mon, I’ll walk you.” Kenny said. She smiled up at him and nodded happily, grabbing her white backpack off of the couch and together they headed out into the streets of Denver. 

~~~

Craig stood outside of  _ Adam and Eve’s  _ at approximately nine o’clock. He stood with his back pressed against the brick wall outside, browsing his emails on his phone. He had a few from potential clients, most of which were junk, but one made him stop scrolling and furrow his brow. It was from Cartman. 

**Cartman**

**To me**

 

  * ****Come to my office at 15:30, May 19, 2009.****



 

Craig frowned at the email. The boss didn’t do last minute emails, but usually he wouldn’t keep them this short unless there was a big problem. If it was so short, then why would he have it scheduled for months in advance? Yeah the big boss was a busy guy, but usually the longest Craig had to wait for a meeting was three weeks. This was almost a five month wait! Was this a possible promotion? But how much higher could he get? He already ran Colorado Springs, which was the second largest city in Colorado, the biggest being Denver. But Stan ran Denver. Maybe it was something to do with the drug distribution in Colorado Springs? Was Cartman going to call a huge meeting with all the bosses to discuss something, and that was just the most convenient date? 

“Tucker!” Clyde’s voice broke Craig from his thoughts. He looked up from his phone to see Clyde waving at him, a beautiful blonde wrapped under his arm. Clyde was a larger fellow, though not nearly as big as the boss. He still had a load of muscle under the layer of fat, which made him formidable in a fight. Clyde was what Craig would call a tank. He had mousy brown hair and dark brown eyes, and was wearing a tan suit with his signature red tie. He had a bit of a goatee going for him, but it looked a bit uneven. Yeah, classic Clyde. Bebe on the other hand was dressed far more extravagantly. She was a thick woman with thunder thighs, a curvy waist, and a larger rack that she displayed proudly. All of that was hidden under a thick brown fur coat that went down to her kneecaps. Craig could hear the faint  _ click _ of her six inch black heels making their way down the street, and it was enough to strike a little bit of fear into even Craig’s heart. Her thick, curly, dirty blonde hair hung thickly down her shoulders and covered her breasts. Her makeup was striking and made her appear even more beautiful. Red lipstick that was the same shade as Clyde’s tie, smokey eyeshadow, and sharp winged eyeliner around her dark green eyes. She looked as beautiful and dangerous as ever. 

Craig slipped the phone back into his pocket as he waved at Clyde and Bebe. Bebe blew a pink bubble of gum out of her mouth, pulling it back in before it could pop between her bright white teeth. 

“Happy birthday, man!” Clyde exclaimed loudly, making Craig cringe slightly. 

“Thanks for telling the world.” Craig muttered sarcastically as Bebe and Clyde approached him. 

“No problem!” Clyde said enthusiastically, making Craig roll his eyes. 

“Let’s hurry this up. I want to be home by midnight.” Craig muttered as the trio headed into the strip club, Craig keeping his eyes on the ground, hoping no one saw him. 

“Jeez, ok grandpa.” Clyde scoffed, skipping the small line that was waiting for entrance to the club. A few people protested, but no one stopped them. 

The bouncer frowned at them at first, yet upon recognizing Clyde and Bebe, his expression softened more so and he stepped to the side. 

“Have a good night, Mr. and Mrs. Donovan.” He said stiffly, granting them access to the club. 

“You too, Pete.” Clyde said, pushing the door of the club open. Craig glanced back at Pete, who crossed his arms over his chest and continued asking patrons for their identification cards. 

The second Craig stepped inside he was hit with the smell of sweat, cigarettes, and some strange scent that he couldn’t quite identify. The club was dark, the only light sources being pink and blue neon lights that lined the edge of the ceiling and the stages. Several people were dancing on the stages, dressed in ridiculously skimpy outfits as they slid up and down the poles. Topless men and women were grinding against other people who were sitting in chairs. Waiters and waitresses wearing equally skimpy outfits walked around with trays of drinks and cigars, some of them glancing at the trio with suggestive eyes. Loud jarring music filled the scene, music that Craig would never listen to on his own. He felt extremely out of place and out of his comfort zone. Happy birthday, right?

“What’s up, Stoley?” Clyde greeted the man at the entrance. He was a very tall and lanky fellow, nearly as tall as Craig. He had short black hair, glasses, was wearing a white polo shirt with black jeans and was holding a clipboard. He glanced up at Clyde and his eyes went wide, a hint of fear in them. Craig frowned. Why was everyone here on edge because of them?

“Not much, Donovan. The usual spot?” He asked. 

“Nah, get us the nicest table you have. We have a special guest today.” Clyde said, gesturing to Craig. 

“Ah, hello. My name is Kevin Stoley, and you are?” He extended his thin right hand to shake. Craig noticed it trembling slightly, and he became more concerned. 

Craig took it carefully, fearing he’d break it if he used too much pressure. “Craig Tucker.” 

Kevin’s eyes widened in surprise. “Er,  _ Tucker _ ?” He repeated, and Craig could feel his little hand trembling in his own. 

“Yeah.” Craig said. 

“Yes, yes of course! I had no idea that you’d be coming!” Kevin exclaimed, shaking his hand vigorously. Then he glanced over his shoulder. “Bunny! Get over here!” 

A small woman rushed over with an empty tray. She was wearing a light teal swimsuit with a little white rabbit just below where her bellybutton was. A pair of fluffy white rabbit ears were perched on her pale blonde hair. Her makeup was expertly done with light eyeshadow and lipstick with bright pink cheeks. Clearly aiming for an innocent look, though if she was working in a place like this she clearly wasn’t. Her icy blue eyes were large and doe-like, staring up at Craig. 

“Get these three our best table.” Kevin ordered. 

“Yessir!” Bunny exclaimed in a soft southern accent. “F-follow me please.” She turned around to sprint off, and Craig noticed she had a fluffy little rabbit tail on her rear that bounced with each step, earning her the nickname “Bunny”.

Bunny lead the way through the light crowd, maneuvering expertly around the staff and guests. Craig kept his eyes forward, following Bunny through the crowd while Clyde and Bebe discussed the setting of the club and the staff so far. 

“Woah, is that McCormick?” Clyde suddenly asked, making the party freeze. Craig glanced around and sure enough, Kenny McCormick was sitting at one of the booths along the wall by himself, inspecting everything with his sharp, dark blue eyes. When he noticed the trio, he smiled and waved them over. 

Craig, Clyde, and Bebe headed over with Bunny right behind, her white heels clicking noisily. “Hey McCormick! Long time, no see!” Clyde greeted the dirty blond. 

“Sup, Donovan? Stevens? Tucker?” Kenny returned the greeting with giving Clyde a fist bump. 

“Good! It’s Tucker’s birthday today!” Clyde exclaimed, causing Craig to hide his face in his hand and shake his head. 

“Shit man, happy birthday!” Kenny said, scooting over to make room for the trio. Bebe removed her thick coat, which revealed a knee length black dress that pronounced her cleavage even more. Clyde smirked at the sight of it. Clearly his attention wouldn’t be on any dancers tonight. “Sorry I didn’t give you a gift. Didn’t know that today was your big day.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Craig muttered. 

“So the big twenty-seven, huh?” 

“Fuck no!” Craig snarled. “I’m only twenty-six!” 

“Oops, my bad.” Kenny raised his hands in surrender. 

“C-can I get you anythin’?” Bunny asked hesitantly, holding a pen and notepad. 

“Hm, I’ll go with a jack and coke, the lady will have a blended margarita, and get whatever the birthday boy wants.” Clyde ordered, nudging Craig. 

“Just some Jameson. No ice.” Craig muttered, glancing up at the dancers with little to no interest. None of them captured his attention.

“Some scotch on the rocks, hun.” Kenny said, knocking the rest of his drink back. “And I think we should get some birthday shots, yeah?” 

“Ok, comin’ right up!” Bunny stated, scribbling their orders down before turning and heading towards the bar. Craig’s frown deepened. Why was everyone acting so skittish? Was it because of him? 

Craig sighed and sat back, his amber eyes scanning the room. He saw men and women of mostly the same shape walking around, dancing to upbeat music that was blasting through the speakers. No one was catching his eye, though. He wasn’t interested in the muscled bodies of the men shaking their hips on the stage, thrusting their fake bulges into the cheering audience. 

“So Tucker, what’ve you been up to?” Kenny asked. 

Craig shrugged. “Nothing new. You?” 

“Same old, same old.” He said, his eyes focused away from the group. Craig followed his eyes and noticed that they were focused on their waitress. As Craig watched, she passed by a table and one of they guys reached out and smacked her ass, causing her to jump. Craig heard Kenny snarl, and when he turned his focus back to Kenny, he saw that the dirty blond had his fist clenched around his glass, and that the cup was cracking under the pressure. 

“McCormick, dude, chill.” Clyde warned. “You’re breaking the glass.” 

“I fucking hate that she works here.” Kenny growled, releasing the fractured glass and knocking it off the table, causing it to shatter. 

“Well why don’t you just pay off her student loans?” Clyde asked. 

“She won’t let me.” 

Craig frowned. “She knows about your ‘career’?” He asked, arching an eyebrow. Outsiders were usually forbidden from knowing about the mafia, unless they showed potential in being in it. 

“Yeah. She’s an aide for us.” Clyde explained. “Whenever someone here in Denver gets hurt, she’s usually the one everyone goes to.” Clyde chuckled. “Besides, it’s easier going to her with a gunshot wound than it is to go to an actual hospital. She doesn’t ask questions.” 

“How the hell does she know about us, though?” 

Kenny turned to Craig. “She used to be a part of the mafia, until she couldn’t take the stress of murder. So she begged the boss to let her be a medic for the mafia instead. I guess the boss liked her, so he allowed it.” 

Just as he said that, Bunny came back around with the drinks, as well as four shot glasses filled with white drink with whipped cream and sprinkles on top. She set those down and passed the drinks out. 

“Thanks, Buttercup.” Kenny said, sliding over a fifty dollar bill. 

“Ken-”

“Just accept the tip, Marji.” Kenny said, taking his drink and passing around the shots. “Didn’t make one for yourself?” 

“No, I’m on the clock. Gotta stay sharp.” Marji said, picking up the fifty and stuffing it down her swimsuit. Then she turned and headed back onto the floor, expertly weaving between the patrons and dancers. 

Kenny raised his shot glass, and the others followed, even the reluctant Craig. “To another successful year.” 

“Cheers!” They said. 

“And to the birthday boy!” Kenny declared, knocking his shot back. 

The trio copied him, and Craig’s face scrunched up at the overly sweet drink.  _ Birthday cake schnapps and whipped cream. Lovely.  _

They set their glasses down again and Kenny focused his dark blue eyes on Craig. “So, Tucker, see anyone you like?” 

Craig shook his head. “Not into the whole muscled asshole look.” 

Kenny chuckled. “Says the muscled asshole.” He then let his eyes wander, searching for something or someone. “Hold on, I’ll be right back.” And with that, Kenny abandoned the group and headed towards Kevin. Craig took a sip of his Jameson, appreciating the bitterness. 

~~~

Meanwhile a blond man sat in the back of the store, trying desperately to control his wild hair with some gel and various other tools. The men and women around him were busy with their own hair and makeup and took no notice in the blond’s struggles. He groaned to himself as he ran a comb back through the wild mess, letting out a small squeak when he pulled too hard and the teeth of the comb caught in his hair. 

“Have you tried hair gel?” A red haired girl beside him asked, carefully winging her eyeliner with a steady hand. 

“Gah! Of course I’ve tried it!” The blond snapped. 

The redhead glanced at the blond before setting her eyeliner down. She stood up and walked behind him, taking the comb and the gel from him and beginning to work her magic. 

“You gotta be patient, Tweek. And brush your hair more. There’s so many knots in this.” She lectured, tugging at his hair with the comb. 

“Easy for you to say, Red! You’re hair is always tangle free and soft!” Tweek winced as the comb kept getting caught, but Red was a professional at untangling his hair. When she found a knot, she’d grab the base of his scalp and begin brushing more aggressively. It was a relatively pain free process, and it left Tweek with soft, less wild hair. Red the put a small blob of gel into her palm and began brushing her fingers through Tweek’s hair, keeping it back and out of his face. 

“There. All done.” Red said, wiping her hands off with a towel that was draped over Tweek’s chair. 

Just then the door opened, revealing Red’s husband, Kevin. “Tweek, you’re on in five.” He stated. 

“What?!” Tweek exclaimed. “I’m not supposed to be on the stage until - ah - eleven!” 

“Well there’s a special guest tonight, and he wants to see you perform. Chop chop!” Kevin ordered. 

“Special guest?” Red asked, arching her eyebrow. 

Kevin glanced around before swiftly walking up to them. In a much quieter voice, he held the clipboard up to cover his and Red’s faces as he whispered, “He’s the boss of Colorado Springs.” 

Red and Tweek both gasped. Such a high power was in Denver, and wanted to see Tweek perform.  _ Tweek _ ! 

“Gah! Why me? Why does he want me?” Tweek demanded. 

Kevin shrugged. “I guess it’s because you look different than the other guys? I don’t fucking know, but you’d better get that ass out there and give him the best performance of your life!” He ordered before turning and leaving the changing area. 

Red bit her bright red lip and glanced down at Tweek, her chocolate brown eyes glinting with anxiety. Tweek frowned and stood up, placing his hands on her shoulders. “I’ll be ok, Red.” He mumbled, praying that he would be. 

“Just - oh, I don’t know. Just do what he says, I guess.” Red whispered. “If you two get alone time, anyway.” 

Tweek scoffed. “Do you see me? I’m a twink! Who wants to see a scrawny guy like me dance?” He gestured to his body while glancing in the mirror. It was true, Tweek was a thin man. He normally had freckles dotting his chest and shoulders, though most of them were hidden under a layer of makeup. His shoulders had a little bit of broadness to them, but they quickly narrowed down until you got to his hips, which were just slightly protruding. His arms were toned and lean due to all his nights dancing. His outfit was extremely flashy, being mostly made of leather straps that crossed once over his chest, went down his sides, over his shoulders, and covered his bulge. His infamous pink feather boa sat on the station next to him, waiting to be used to seduce men, and for some reason women alike. His face was equally thin and freckled, but once again those freckles were hidden by makeup. His lips were on the thinner side as well, and covered with dark red lipstick, and he had a small little button nose that was dusted with freckles. Overall he was happy with his appearance, except for his eyes. His eyes were where all of his pride was focused on. He had a weird color pattern in his irises. The top half of them were blue, yet the bottom half were green. Tweek wasn’t very prideful or vain, but he knew his eyes were his best feature. 

Yet now they made him nervous. What if the same thing that happened to Red happened to him? 

Red frowned. “Clearly this boss doesn’t like jocks. You might just be his type.” She pointed out. 

Tweek let out a little whine and grabbed the boa, making sure to spritz on some cologne. He glanced at Red and tried to smile. “Wish me luck.” 

“Best case scenario; you get a massive tip.” Red tried to encourage Tweek, but failed massively. Worse case scenario? He’d be assaulted and be unable to say anything since this was a boss. 

“Tweek! Come on!” Kevin shouted. 

Red gave Tweek a quick, yet firm hug. Tweek almost felt like he was in the army about to be deported to the Middle East. 

Tweek gave her a quick wave and headed out, his heart pounding in his chest. 

~~~

Craig sat boredly at his table when Kenny came back, a slight smirk on his lips. “Why do you look so smug?” He asked, taking another sip. 

“You’ll love this next guy, Craig.” Kenny said. 

Craig arched an eyebrow. “What makes you so sure?” 

Kenny shrugged. “Intuition, I guess,” as he took another sip of his drink. 

Craig rolled his eyes and took a sip of the bitter Jameson as well, glancing up at the stage. One of the muscular men took a bow, his Speedo stuffed with dollar bills, before taking his leave. When he went behind the curtain, the music on the radio changed to  _ Yeah  _ by Usher. Craig recognized it because his little sister was absolutely obsessed with Usher, to the point where her old room at their parents’ house was covered in Usher’s face and body. It wasn’t necessarily a bad song, Craig just enjoyed more metal music. 

After a couple of seconds, the curtain  _ swooshed _ again, and a different man stepped out. Craig paused with his lips pressed against the rim of the glass, looking this guy up and down. He was thinner than the other guys, and his blond hair was smoothed back with hair gel. He wore black jeans with leather straps winding around his shoulders and going down his sides, and a dashing pink boa was wrapped around his shoulders. Overall he had a nice body, much more to Craig’s liking than the other guys around here. The blond man strutted up to the edge of the stage, dramatically lifting and dropping his hips in time with the beat of the music. Craig set his glass down as he discretely watched the dancer. Clyde and Kenny were laughing about something while Bebe’s sharp eyes browsed the scene, quietly sipping her margarita. 

As the song became more dramatic so did the man’s dancing, swinging his hips violently while spinning on the pole, and Craig felt his curiosity rising. 

Suddenly Clyde nudged him in the shoulder. “You keep staring at the blondie, Tucker,” he observed as his began lighting a cigarette, a knowing smirk on his face. 

Craig frowned and brought his nearly empty glass to his lips. “Shut up, Donovan.” He snarled. 

Kenny smirked as well. “You know, we can get a seat that’s closer to the stage if you want.” He offered. 

Craig took a sip and watched the dancer for a bit more. He was attractive, and had a decent body. Maybe he would get lucky tonight. 

“Fine.” He grumbled, already getting up from his seat. The gang followed him and Kenny lead them to a vacant table, which was right next to the dancer’s stage. They took their seats and Craig had to admit, the view was much better. 

Just as they sat down, the chorus dropped and the man ripped his own pants off, revealing leather-like underwear. Craig couldn’t stop watching as the hips rotated in time with the beat of the music. The man began spinning on the pole again, this time letting himself fall back so that his legs were the only things wrapped around the bar. He got a few cheers as he sat himself back up. 

The dancer swung off the pole and walked confidently over towards them, swinging his hips in a circle as he removed his feathered boa. He then dropped to his knees in front of Craig and wrapped the boa around his neck, pulling him slightly closer. The scent of cologne and sweat wafted onto Craig, and he felt his mouth watering just slightly. Their eyes locked. Craig’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of those eyes. Those strange, multicolored eyes. They weren’t like Cartman’s, no. They were beautiful. 

Just as quickly as they appeared, they disappeared. Craig was left in a slight trance, his unashamed focus on the dancer. Kenny and Clyde snickered as Craig watched the dancer move, his stomach quenching every time the dancer looked at him. 

“Looks like someone’s gonna get lucky tonight.” Kenny chuckled. 

“Yeah, more than one person, too.” Clyde remarked, resting his hand on Bebe’s thigh and rubbing it, causing Bebe to smirk. “What about you, McCormick?”

Kenny just shrugged. “Highly doubtful.” 

“What about Marjorine? You obviously have a thing for her.” 

Kenny’s cheeks brightened. “Nah,” he so obviously lied. 

Bebe rolled her eyes. “You’re a fucking liar, McCormick.” She stated. “Why haven’t you made a move yet?” 

Kenny’s already flustered face turned and even darker shade of red. “I’unno.” He mumbled, shrugging a bit just as Marjorine came around the table again. 

“Can I get y’all anythin’ else?” She asked sweetly. 

“A few more drinks, Marji.” Clyde said. 

“Ok!” She said cheerfully, and then turned to leave. 

“Hold up, Marji!” Bebe called. 

Marjorine turned and smiled sweetly at Bebe, though the respectful fear in her eyes was evident. 

Bebe smirked slightly. “Are you seeing anyone right now?” She asked bluntly. 

Marjorine’s eyes widened in surprise. “Er, uh, I don’t-”

“You don’t have to answer.” Kenny firmly stated, glaring at Bebe. 

Marjorine flushed bright red and whipped around, heading back towards the bar again. Kenny’s steely glare burned through Bebe, yet she just chuckled. She took another sip of her margarita and turned to look at Kenny. 

“See? She’s not seeing anyone. Why don’t you make a move?” She asked.  

Kenny scoffed. “Like I have a chance.” He muttered, knocking the rest of his drink back. Marjorine was beautiful, smart, funny, sweet; why in the ever living hell would she want him? 

Bebe rolled her eyes and shook her head, glancing back at Craig. His eyes refused to leave the dancer, completely in a trance. She snickered and reached over Clyde to shove Craig’s shoulder, making him jump slightly. He turned to Bebe with an irritated glint in his eyes. 

“Having fun, birthday boy?” She asked, snatching a cigarette from Clyde’s pack. 

Craig glared at her before glancing back up at the stripper. He was collecting his tips and stuffing them into his underwear and underneath the leather straps. Craig instinctively reached for his wallet. He opened it up and pulled out a one hundred dollar bill, and once he caught the dancers eye he beckoned him over. 

The dancer stood up and crouched in front of Craig, their eyes once again locking. Craig felt his chest compressing a little bit at the sight of his blue-green eyes. He wordlessly handed the dancer the bill. 

The dancer blinked in surprise, but accepted the bill. Then he gathered his pants and disappeared behind the curtain again. 

Craig scanned the scene in search of Kevin, and found him speaking to a waitress. He stood up from his seat and headed over to the lanky man. Kevin glanced at Craig before stopping his conversation and turning to him. “Is everything to your liking, Mr. Tucker?” He asked nervously. 

“What’s the name of that dancer?” Craig asked. 

Kevin swallowed a lump in his throat. “Um, which one sir?” 

Craig rolled his eyes. “The blond. Skinny, black jeans, leather straps. That one.” 

Kevin blinked. “Oh, Tweek?” 

_ Tweek _ .  _ Odd name. _ “Yeah, that one.” 

Kevin tugged at his collar. “Was-was he ok?” He asked. 

“I want to see him.” Craig demanded harshly. 

“N-now I’m sure if there was something wrong with his service-”

“There was nothing wrong with him. I want to see him.” Craig stated. 

Kevin’s skin turned white, making him ghost-like in the dim room. “Y-you mean-”

“Can I get a room with him?” Craig asked. 

Kevin nodded mutely and turned to the waitress. “C-can you-” he cleared his throat. “Can you take Mr. Tucker to room seven.”


	4. New Case

Tweek sat down at his workstation with a tremendous sigh of relief. He collected his money and counted it out. Apart from the one hundred from the Colorado Springs boss, he only collected about fifty dollars. He sighed and stuffed it into his wallet, rubbing his eyes. Tonight was going to be a long night. He was just glad that the worst part was over-

“Tweek!” Kevin exclaimed, barging into the makeup station and strutting over to Tweek. 

He jumped and spun around in his chair to face his boss. “Yes, ngh, Kevin?” 

“You did amazing out there!” Kevin cheered, yet his enormous smile was clearly false. “So amazing, in fact, that the, um…” Kevin faltered, his smile disappearing and a frown forming. He sighed heavily, just as Red entered the room. “The boss wants to see you.” 

Tweek’s breathing stopped, and his eyes widened. “What?” He whispered. 

Red gasped. “ _ What?! _ ” 

Kevin shook his head slightly and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Mr. Tucker wants to see you.” He mumbled. 

Tweek felt the blood drain from his face and he was about ready to faint. “Wh-why?” He asked. 

Kevin looked up at Tweek. “Why do you think?” 

Red glanced between Tweek and Kevin, then her face hardened. “Which room is he in? I’ll straighten him out.” 

“Red, no. We can’t defy the mafia; they’ll come after me!” Kevin stated, throwing his arms to the side in exaggeration. 

“He can’t just demand sex from a stripper! That’s illegal-”

“Seriously? Do you fucking hear yourself, Red?!” Kevin demanded. “Illegal is all the mafia fucking does! Do you really think they’ll care about fucking a stripper?” 

“They should have some goddamn morals!” Red roared, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. 

“We both know they don’t!” Kevin screamed back. “ _ You _ should definitely know!” 

Red’s tears fell, and Kevin softened slightly. He pulled her in his arms and held her closely. “I’m sorry.” 

Red’s sobbing broke Tweek out of his little trance. He stood up and silently wrapped the boa back over his shoulders. Kevin and Red glanced up at him, and Red wiped her tears away and hugged Tweek hard. Tweek wrapped his arms around her securely. “I’ll be fine, Red. I’ll just take it, it’ll be over, and we can continue with the night.” 

Red pulled away and wiped her tears off of her face again. “Make him wear a condom, please.” She begged softly. “And use plenty of lube so it doesn’t hurt as much.” 

Tweek nodded silently and turned to Kevin. “What room is he in?” 

~~~

Craig was sitting on a plush bed in a dimly lit room. The lights and the bed itself were both dark red. Silk sheets with a mountain of pillows propped up rested on the king sized bed. Across the room was a black dresser, which held a variety of toys and lubricants. A huge mirror hung above the dresser - presumably to show the couple what they were doing from a different angle. Some vulgar art pieces hung on the black walls, and the dark carpet was soft and thick under his socks. His shoes sat neatly beside the door. Now all that was missing was the other man. 

_ Twink? Twerk?  _

Craig glanced at himself in the mirror, then checked his phone. It was only about ten o’clock now. 

The door opened, and Craig looked up. The skinny blond man was standing there confidently, his hip out while the boa was hanging down his chest. He was still wearing what he had worn onstage. Craig liked it. 

“You requested me, Mr. Tucker?” The man asked. 

Craig had no idea what to expect when he had heard the guy speak. But a high, slightly squeaky voice wasn’t it. Either way, it was attractive. 

Craig stood up and began unbuttoning his jacket. “Craig.” He corrected. 

The man nodded and shut the door while Craig removed the jacket. He set it on the dresser, and began the unbutton the shirt underneath it. 

“Ah ah, let me get it.” The man murmured sensually, strolling over the Craig and slowly started undoing the white button-up. 

Craig watched at the thin hands worked their way down his chest, and lips connected to his neck. Craig allowed his eyes to shut as he released a deep breath. The lips were slow, and seemingly skilled. 

“What’s your name?” He whispered. 

The lips stopped and pulled away for a second. “Tweek.” 

Craig nodded and rested his hands on the thin man’s hips, pulling him closer. He felt a sharp breath on his neck, making his eyes snap open. He looked down at the thin man, who had his eyes squeezed shut. Craig frowned and pushed the stripper away. 

“Are you ok with this?” He asked, his deep voice sounding slightly threatening. 

Tweek gulped and nodded. “Yeah. Just not that experienced with this.” 

Craig nodded slightly. “Then let me lead.” He murmured, heading over to the bed again and sprawling out. “Come here.” 

Tweek nodded and strutted over confidently, the boa waving out behind him. He crawled onto the bed and straddled Craig, taking his finger and using it to tug on his lower lip.  _ There’s that confidence.  _ Craig inhaled sharply, and smirked slightly. “Just do what feels natural.” He murmured. “Pretend I’m a girl, if you have to.” 

The stripper glanced Craig’s body up and down. He then leaned down and started planting kisses against his chest, moving slowly down his body. Craig groaned and allowed his eyes to shut again. Tweek’s expert fingers began working on unbuttoning Craig’s shirt as his lips moved down his body, when a thought struck him. 

“Hey, are you even gay?” Craig asked, causing Tweek to pause. 

He looked up at Craig. “I’m, um, bi. Bisexual.” He said. 

“So you’re ok with this?” 

Tweek hesitated, then mumbled out a “yes”, but it wasn’t convincing enough for Craig. He frowned again. 

“Don’t lie to me.” Craig said. 

“I’m telling the truth!” Tweek insisted, sounding slightly panicked. “I’m bisexual!” 

“I’m not talking about that. You’re not ok with this.” Craig stated, sitting up a bit, which forced Tweek to sit back. 

“I - ha - am!” He argued. 

Craig relaxed his face, sighing. “You don’t want to fuck me because I’m a boss, right? You don’t want to get a bad review and have your place shut down.” 

Tweek hesitated, and nodded. “Yeah.” 

Craig nodded. “Well, I’m not like those other assholes that come here. I don’t shut other places down. If the sex is bad, oh well. I have a hand that works.” He said. “Besides, that was one hell of a show. This is a strip club, not a brothel.” 

Tweek only nodded silently, avoiding eye contact. Craig had a gut feeling that that wasn’t the only reason he was nervous. 

“Or is it just because you’re scared I’m going to force you to have sex with me?” 

Tweek stiffened. “I - ah - I-”

Craig narrowed his eyes and sat up. “Has someone from the mafia forced you into having sex with them before?” 

Tweek swallowed. “Ngh - no.” 

Craig’s frown intensified. “Liar.” 

“Not - hngh - not exactly!” He stuttered. “It wasn’t - ngh - me that was forced.” 

Craig blinked. “Who was it?” 

Tweek looked away and his lip began trembling. “I - I-”

Craig relaxed and sat up more, causing the dancer to glance back at him. “They’re not getting in trouble - I swear. It’s highly immoral to force sex upon anyone. It’s one of the mafia's’ most strictly enforced rules that every city has to follow. I need to know so the member can be punished, and the victim compensated.” 

Tweek bit his bottom lip, pulling anxiously. Craig grabbed Tweek’s softly, making the jittery man jump. “Hey, it’s ok.” 

“H-how do I know you won’t hurt her?” Tweek whispered. 

“Tweek, I’m one of the biggest bosses in the state of Colorado. In order to get this spot, I had to be honest.” Craig lied. No, in the mafia the best way to get to the top was to lie and sneak your way to the top. 

Tweek nodded and stood up quietly. “I’ll get her.” He said softly. 

~~~

Craig waited patiently in front of the mirror, straightening his tie again when the door opened once again. Tweek had returned with two other people. Kevin and an equally thin woman with violent red hair. Hair that Craig recognized right away. 

“Red?” He asked softly, his heart plummeting into his stomach as he walked up to her. 

His cousin’s eyes widened in surprise. “Craig? Wait -  _ you’re  _ a boss for the Mountain Mafia?” She demanded, shock scrawled across her face. 

Craig chuckled dryly. “Yeah.” 

She laughed a little. “Guess that explains why you never go to family reunions.” She joked. Then she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, and anxiety replaced the surprise on her features. “Are you going to hurt us?” 

Craig frowned sharply. “No. I need details on who your attacker was.” He stated, pulling a pen and small notebook out of his jacket pocket. 

Red swallowed hard and sat on the bed. “He, um, he had brown hair, blue eyes, had a blue suit on,” 

“Ok, more than just general details. Anything specific that would make him unique?” 

Red thought for a moment while Tweek had his hand rested on her shoulder and  Kevin held her hand. “He had a tattoo, on the left hand side of his neck. It was of a dragon.” 

Craig nodded and wrote that down. “How old do you think he was?”

“Early twenties, probably.” Red whispered. “Can’t have been older than twenty-five.” 

“So anywhere between the ages of twenty-one and twenty-five?” Craig asked. 

“Sounds about right.” Red said softly. 

“How long ago was this?” 

Red bit her lip. “About a month ago.” She whispered. 

Craig nodded. “And how do you know he was in the mafia?” 

“Marjorine said that he kept bragging about how he was in it, and about how high of a boss he was. Claimed that he was second in line for the top bosses spot.” 

Craig scoffed. “Bullshit.” He muttered. The only one close enough for that was Stan, and considering he was engaged and didn’t have a tattoo made it highly unlikely that he was the culprit. “Did anyone catch his name?” 

Kevin cleared his throat. “Not an actual record, but I think I heard one of his friends say something like ‘Edward’ or something.” 

Craig wrote that down with a nod. “Did he live here?” 

Tweek spoke up. “Yes. He was trying to convince a girl to go back to his place with him, and how it was a few blocks away.” 

Craig glanced up at the trio and stuffed his book and pen back into his jacket. “Thank you for the information.” He said, brushing his suit down. 

Red nodded and her eyes turned fearful for a moment. “Are you going to kill him?” She asked. 

Craig shrugged. “It’s really not up to me. It’s up to the Denver boss. And knowing him, probably not. But he won’t walk away without at least a broken arm.” He hesitated for a second, staring down at his cousin. She was usually such a strong woman, one who would never turn away from a fight. This situation broke her. It pissed Craig off. “May I ask one more question?” He asked. 

Red clenched her hands, making Kevin wince slightly. “Sure.” 

Craig walked forward and kneeled down in front of her, taking her other hand and covering it with his own. “Where did this happen?” 

Red stiffened, and Craig felt the sharp pressure of her squeezing his hand as well. He ignored the pain and focused on her answer. “Here.” 

“In the facility?” 

Red swallowed a lump in her throat. “In this room.” 

Craig frowned and stood up abruptly. “Has he come back since?” 

Kevin shook his head. “He’s probably too scared to.” 

“Good.” Craig snarled. “Thank you for your time.” 

He left the room without another word, fury building up inside him. Someone from  _ his _ mafia had touched  _ his _ cousin.  _ Without her permission!  _ That man was as good as dead, but first, he had to talk to Stan. 

Clyde and the gang were laughing about something at the table when Craig returned. Kenny’s eyes shifted to Craig and he smirked. “How was it, birthday boy?” 

“I’m going home.” Craig states, grabbing his heavy coat. “And I recommend you do, too.” 

Clyde and Bebe turned to him, confusion clouding all their faces. “Why? What happened?” 

Craig ignored Bebe’s question and pushed his arms through the sleeves. “Kenny, take Marjorine home now.” 

Kenny stood up abruptly and headed towards Marjorine, while Clyde narrowed his eyes at Craig and stood up as well. 

“Craig, dude, what happened? What’s going on?” 

Craig turned to Clyde and pulled him closer. “A performer was assaulted here by a member of the mafia.” He whispered softly. 

“ _ What?! _ ” Clyde snarled, pulling away. His eyes were aflame and smoke from his cigarette billowed out of his nostrils, almost making Craig chuckle. “When? Who the FUCK did it?” 

“I don’t know, I’m going to talk to Marsh about it tomorrow.” Craig stated. 

“That shit does  _ not _ happen here!” Clyde roared, gaining the attention of a few people in the room. “Not at my goddamn strip club!” 

Craig shook his head. “Well it fucking happened, and to my cousin nonetheless.” He growled. 

“Red?” Clyde demanded. Bebe had gotten up and was standing behind Clyde. She was fuming too, and at the mention of Red’s name her teeth clenched and she snarled. 

“I will find and  _ kill  _ that fucker!” She snarled. 

“Tomorrow. When I know where the guy is, I’ll let you guys know and we can go together.” Craig stated, trying his best to stay calm. He was beyond pissed, but they couldn’t start a scene here. Cops would show up, and that would be trouble. 

Clyde and Bebe continued to glare around the property, while Kenny came up to Craig with a worried Marjorine in tow. “Yo, Tucker. What the fuck is going on man?” 

Craig sighed, but before he could say anything Clyde pitched in. “Some fucker raped a stripper here!”

Marjorine gasped and her grip on Kenny intensified. Kenny frowned and glanced at Craig. “Is that true?” 

“Yes. I’m going to talk to Marsh about it tomorrow. I’ll let you guys know when anything happens.” Craig growled. “Now, I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m going home.” 

He turned to leave when he noticed Tweek standing at one of the back walls, looking small and petrified. Craig sighed, and started walking over to the thin man. 

“I’m sorry that this happened. I’ll make sure that fucker pays.” He said once he was standing in front of the blond. 

Tweek didn’t know what to say, just nodding softly as he cowered in Craig’s shadow. Craig knew that his appearance alone was frightening enough, but with the knowledge that he was also the head of Colorado Springs was probably even more terrifying. This poor guy was shaking in his shoes. 

_ And to think that he thought I was going to force him to have sex with me.  _

Craig pulled his wallet out of his pocket and began browsing through it, pulling out his checkbook and scribbling an amount on it. He tore it out and scribbled on another one. He took one of those checks and handed it to Tweek. “Again, I’m so sorry about what happened. If anything like this happens again, contact me.” Craig ordered, scribbling his number down on a scrap of paper and handing that to Tweek as well. 

Tweek’s eyes widened at the sight of the check. “You - ha - don’t have to do this!” He sputtered. 

Craig shrugged. “Please. I have more money than I can burn.” He chuckled, and handed Tweek the other check. “Get that one to Red for me, will ya?” 

Tweek nodded and goggled at the amount on the checks. A slight smile cracked his lips. “You should come here more often.” He joked. 

Craig chuckled. “Well, strip clubs aren’t really my type of scene.” He said. He paused for a moment and glanced down at Tweek, a slight smirk scrolling across his face. “Though for you, I’d make an exception.” 

Tweek’s cheeks flushed bright red and he looked down at his feet. Craig smirked and turned to look at his friends. They all had their coats on and were talking to Kevin, Clyde looking ready to beat someone’s ass while Bebe looked ready to bathe in the blood of the violator. Kenny had an arm wrapped tightly around Marjorine and was keeping her locked to his side, while she looked downright terrified. 

Craig glanced at Tweek. “I’ll see you around.” He mumbled, before heading out the front door. 

That was  _ not _ how Craig wanted to spend his twenty-sixth birthday. 


	5. Drunken Nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo I feel like this chapter is a bit rushed. Lol my bad I just really wanted to write this.

Kenny escorted Marjorine back to her apartment, keeping on high guard while she was under his arm. He didn’t want whoever had hurt Red to come around and hurt Marjorine as well. The city was dark yet still incredibly active for it being almost midnight. Normally Kenny would find peace in these nights, but any one of these laughing, sappy people stumbling around could be a rapist in disguise, and Marjorine was pretty enough to fall victim. 

They arrived at her apartment without any incidents. Marjorine shakily unlocked the door, her entire being shaking badly while she pushed the door open. 

“Make sure you lock your door tonight, and all your windows, too.” Kenny instructed. “Call me if you hear any weird noises or if you get scared by anything, ok?” 

Marjorine nodded wordlessly and stepped inside, pausing in the doorway and scanning the apartment with terrified blue eyes. Kenny stood and waited for her to shut the door, and once she did he waited for a moment, and once he heard the satisfying  _ click _ from the lock, he turned and began walking down the hallway. 

He had taken seven steps when his phone began ringing. He pulled it out and saw that it was Marjorine. 

“Hello?” He asked. 

_ “I’m scared.” _ Marjorine whispered. 

Kenny turned heel and went back to her door, knocking softly. Marjorine unlocked the door and stared up at him with wide, petrified eyes. He felt his heart melting a little at the sight of her fear, and he wrapped his arms around her securely. She clung to him as he shut the door behind him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. 

“You’re fine, hon.” He said softly, pulling away and looking down at her. She smiled feebly up him, but that smile broke as a tear ran down her face. Kenny quickly wiped it away and turned, locking the deadbolt as well as the door. Then he turned to Marjorine again and rested his hands on her waist. 

“You’re safe, Marji. I’m not going anywhere.” He said. 

She nodded and wiped her own cheeks with her jacket sleeve, sniffing a little. “I can’t believe that happened to Red.” She whispered. 

“It won’t happen to you or anyone ever again.” Kenny swore. “Trust me, with Tucker on the case it’ll get shut down by dinner time tomorrow.” 

Marjorine nodded silently, and then she turned and headed into her little kitchen. Kenny kicked his shoes off at the door and followed suit, watching as she pulled out a case of Bud Light. He couldn’t exactly blame her. Alcohol always put him to sleep with no problem. What harm could a few drinks do? He arched an eyebrow as she set the 12 pack on the table, glancing at him. “What?” 

“Beer? Figured you were more of a cocktail person.” Kenny chuckled, walking over and grabbing one. 

Marjorine scoffed and cracked hers open. “They’re cheap and don’t taste exactly like horse piss.” She said, taking a small sip. 

“True.” Kenny took a sip of his as well, relishing in the alcohol. 

He grabbed the pack and followed Marjorine into the living room, where she switched the TV on. He set the case on the coffee table and sat on the opposite side of the couch from her. “Heh, ya know, back when I was growing up Bud Light was a luxury.” He said, taking another sip of his. 

Marjorine smiles softly. “My parents never drank. Said it was sinful.” She said, flipping through the channels until she came across Family Guy. 

They watched a few episodes and drank nearly all the alcohol, and at that point they were laughing senselessly and joking around. 

“Wait wait wait, Kevin did  _ what _ ?” Marjorine asked, laughing hard. 

“His dumbass broke his arm jumping off of my aunt’s four wheeler.” Kenny chuckled, downing his fifth beer and grabbing a new one. 

“Why?” 

“Cause my cousin dared him to!” Kenny bellowed. 

Marjorine laugher and set her can down, wiping some sweat off of her forehead. “God, it’s so hot in here.” She stated, kicking her shoes off before sitting up. She unbuttoned her pants and pulled the zipper down, allowing her stomach to pop a little. She leaned back with a sigh and raised her shirt, poking her stomach with a sad frown. “I’m getting fat.” 

“Bullshit.” Kenny stated instantly, leaning forward. “You just had, like, four beers and a full meal earlier. Of course you’re stomach is gonna have a little bulge.” 

Marjorine poked her stomach again, then giggled a little. “I look pregnant.”

Kenny chuckled and placed a hand under her bellybutton. “A beer baby!” 

“It’s a girl!” Marjorine exclaimed, glancing up at him with a drunken smile. But that smile faltered, and she lowered her shirt again. 

“What’s wrong?” Kenny asked, removing his hand. 

“I can’t have babies.” She mumbled sadly, staring forward. 

Kenny wrapped an arm over her shoulder, hugging her tightly. “There’s always adoption.” He said. 

“But it won’t be mine.” She whispered softly. 

Kenny leaned forward and kissed her temple. “Isn’t there a surgery that could make it so you ovulate and can be fertile?” 

Marjorine shook her head. “I already asked.” 

Kenny rubbed her thigh softly, kissing her temple again. “I mean, look at the bright side; you don’t need birth control.” 

She chuckled. “Like I’d need it. I haven’t even had sex in my new body yet.” She muttered dryly. 

Kenny blinked in surprise. “Really?” 

She scoffed and glanced up at him. “You’ve known me ever since I’ve had the surgery. And when do we not hang out?” She pointed out. She sighed and stared up at the ceiling. “Can I be honest?” 

“Of course.” 

“I’m scared to even try it. What if it hurts?” She asked. 

“It won’t hurt if the guy is doing it right.” Kenny pointed out. 

She glanced at him again. “How many virginities have you taken?” 

Kenny was honestly not expecting that question. But he was too drunk to really care. “None.” 

“Really?” It was Marjorine’s turn to be surprised. 

“Yeah, I’ve never taken a virginity.” He said. 

“Why? I mean, I’ve known plenty of guys who consider taking a virginity to be an achievement.” She said. 

Kenny scoffed. “A woman’s virginity is delicate. I’m not taking someone’s unless I was very close to them.” He stared. 

Marjorine was quiet for a minute, before looking down at her lap again. “Would you take mine?”

Kenny blanched and he stared at Marjorine with wide eyes. “Wait, what?” 

Marjorine’s cheeks flushed scarlet. “N-nothin’.” 

“No, Marji, did you just ask if I would take your virginity?” 

Marjorine pushes Kenny’s arm off of her and curled up into the corner of the couch. “N-no. Forget it, it was a stupid question.” She mumbled, shaking. 

Kenny scooted closer to her, the alcohol quickly taking over his actions and mind. “Marji-”

“I like you, Ken!” She blurted, burying her face into her knees. 

Kenny couldn’t believe his ears. This beautiful, amazing woman actually likes him. Liked him enough to offer her virginity to him. 

He almost didn’t know what to say. “Marji-”

“I’ve liked you for a long time.” She whispered, muffled by her knees. “I was amazed that you still wanted to be my friend after the surgery. Maybe that’s when I started to really like you.” She sniffled and wiped her nose. “I like you a lot. If anyone is gonna take my virginity, I wan’ it to be you. An’ I mean, after what happened with Red, who knows? I could lose it to a monster.”

Kenny stared at her while she remained curled up. He wanted to kiss her so badly. 

“Me too.” He said softly. “I’ve liked you since I met you.”  

Marjorine lifted her head and stared up at Kenny, her big blue eyes wide and brimmed with tears. “Really?” She asked. 

“Yes.” 

She sat up a little bit more straight, wiping her tears away and staring up at Kenny. Kenny leaned forward and hesitated, his lips just centimeters from hers. He wanted some sort of permission to proceed, and he got it when her lips met his. 

The kiss was slow and soft, and Kenny fought every urge to tear her clothes off and make her his. His hands went to her head and ran his fingers through her hair. She let out a little whine, and it sent a fire through Kenny’s body. 

“Fuck,” he mumbled, a familiar tightness pushing against the front of his jeans. 

“What? What’s wrong?” She asked, pulling away quickly. 

“Nothing, just…” Kenny looked down at his tent. 

Marjorine blushed heavily and bit her lip. “Sorry.” She whispered. 

“You’re completely fine,” Kenny whispered softly. “Fuck, more than fine. You’re fucking gorgeous.” 

She smiled a little, but shuffled slightly. “Are you ok?” 

“Yeah, I jus’...” she hesitated, avoiding eye contact. 

“Do you want to stop?” Kenny asked softly. 

Marjorine bit her lip and pulled her legs closer and tighter. “I don’t know. I’m scared that it’ll hurt.” She admitted. “But at the same time, I really want to. I just don’t want it to hurt.” 

Kenny nodded. “Ok, we can stop-”

“No!” She blurted. Kenny’s eyes widened in surprise. “I mean, we can keep going, I just…”

“I’ve never taken a virginity, so you’re worried I’m going to hurt you.” Kenny finished, nodding in understanding. 

“Yeah…”

Kenny scooted closer to her and kissed her again. “Marji, like I said. If I’m doing it right it won’t hurt. You think the other girls I’ve slept with were just automatically soaked and ready?” 

Marjorine blushed. “No…” 

“Again we can stop. I don’t want you to feel pressured.” He said. 

Marjorine sat for a minute, thinking long and hard. Then she grabbed her beer and shotgunned it, standing up and turning to Kenny. “Let’s do this.” 

Kenny followed her into the bedroom, noticing that she was stumbling a little bit. She stopped at the edge of her bed and turned to Kenny, her face bright red before nervously crossing an arm over her waist. “Close the door.” she whispered. 

Kenny obediently shut the door behind him, beginning to undo his belt while Marjorine averted her eyes shyly. 

“You can watch, Marji.” He said softly, pushing his parka off his shoulders and onto the floor and proceeding to remove his shirt. 

She shook her head and began removing her top. Kenny almost started drooling at the sight of her pretty white bra, her breasts sitting nicely in the cups. She set the top aside and glanced at Kenny, her cheeks turning even more scarlet than he thought possible. 

“Holy shit,” he whispered, walking up to her and grabbing her by the waist. He leaned down and took her lips into his again. He kissed more aggressively this time, dragging his tongue along her bottom lip. She let out a little gasp, yet the tip of her own tongue timidly licked his back. She tasted like Bud Light. He groaned and moved his hands up her back, professionally unclasping the bra and gently pulling away, studying her face for any signs to stop. She didn’t show any, so he proceeded to pull the straps down her arms, releasing her soft pale breasts. Kenny moaned at the sight, the heat and pressure in his pants becoming unbearable. 

Marjorine almost covered them back up with her arms when Kenny grabbed her wrists, keeping them down at her sides. “Jesus Christ, Marji. You’re fucking beautiful.” He whispered, leaning down and kissing her again. He moved his hands to her back again, tugging her close. He loved the feeling of her tits pressing against his bare chest, and he sucked softly on her bottom lip. This released a quiet moan from her, and Kenny could hardly contain it anymore. He gently pushed her onto the bed, encasing her between his muscular arms. His hands moved down to her pants and easily slid them off of her, and he heard a gasp. He raised his head and watched her glowing red face relax, and he felt a smooth led run against his jeans. She was loving this. 

He stood up for a moment and pulled his own pants down, showing off the outline of his erection through his boxers. Marjorine’s eyes widened at the sight. 

“ _ That’s _ supposed to fit  _ inside _ me?” She asked. 

“We’ll make it work, Buttercup.” Kenny said sweetly. “Once I got you hot and bothered I promise you’ll be begging for it.” 

Marjorine blushed but nodded, watching as Kenny crawled back on top of her, lifting her up and pushing her against her pillows. She gasped as his lips directed themselves to her neck, gently kissing and licking the skin on it. She closed her eyes as the kisses made their way down her neck and collarbone, her body aching with anticipation for what was to come next. 

Kenny’s lips gently touched the tip of her nipple, causing it to bud. She gasped softly as his tongue teasingly flicked it before covering it with his mouth. He sucked gently, his tongue circling it. She let out another timid moan, and after a good thirty seconds he gave her other nipple an equal amount of attention. 

Then his kisses moved down her torso, and Marjorine could feel the heat in her panties becoming more evident. Kenny’s expert hands grabbed the edges of her panties and began pulling, and in Marjorine’s drunken state she didn’t really care about what Kenny saw down there. She glanced down at him and watched as the white panties were pulled down her pale legs, until Kenny dropped them onto the floor and smirked a little. 

“Bon appetit,” he mumbled, dipping his head down and running his tongue through her folds. A much louder moan escaped her lips once Kenny found the gold spot. He suckled on her clit, staring up at her. He then flattened his tongue against her and shook his head, causing a delicious friction. Marjorine moaned again, her legs beginning to tremble against Kenny’s head and she felt a heat building up in her stomach. 

“K-Ken…” she panted, her hips starting to buck. 

He smirked against her pussy and shook his head again, this time locking her hips down by wrapping his arms around them. He continued to shake his head until the fire in her stomach burst. She moaned loudly as her back arched, and Kenny remained between her legs, licking and sucking, until she was near tears. He then released her and crawled back up her body, and goddamn, she wanted to explore now. 

“Ken?” She whispered. 

“Hm?” 

“Can I suck your dick?” She asked. 

Kenny blinked. “If you really want to,” he said, sitting up and pulling his boxers down his legs. His dick popped out, staring Marjorine directly in the face as she groaned. The bright red head was leaking slightly, and Marjorine felt the need to get it off. She leaned forward and licked the tip, gathering the salty precome up with her tongue. Kenny groaned softly and moved to lay down beside her. 

She moved onto her side and crawled on top of his, leaning down and kissing him, feeling his erection pressing against her inner thigh. She groaned at the feeling, and carefully began moving her kisses to the side of his face, moving down slowly. 

“Fuck,” Kenny moaned, his hands slowly running down her arm as she kissed down his torso, copying what he had done until she felt his top hit her in the chin. 

Now, this wasn’t Marjorine’s first time sucking dick. Back when she was Leo, she’d always had a thing for both guys and girls. She prided her ability to please both genders orally. 

She leaned down and licked the head again, beginning to slowly take him into her mouth. One thing that Kenny didn’t know about was that she didn’t have a gag reflex, and boy was he was in for a treat. She sucked on his head, dragging her tongue against the underside. He tasted salty and a little sweaty, but she didn’t mind. She loved the taste. She used her right hand to gently press against his balls, rubbing them while he sighed above her. 

“Marji…” he whispered. 

Before he could say anything else, she ducked down all the way, and Kenny’s controlled groaning turned into heavy moaning. Marjorine used the back of her tongue to rub him, almost as if she had an itchy throat. Kenny’s hands found themselves tangled in her silky blonde hair, gently making her bob her head. 

“Marji - I’m gonna, hah, gonna-”

Marjorine knew what that meant. She began bobbing her head faster, feeling his balls beginning to tense in her hand as she rubbed them. She sucked hard, and felt a gush of hot, salty come running down her throat. She continued to suck until Kenny relaxed again, then she sat up. 

“Fucking Christ Marjorine, you’re amazing.” Kenny sighed, sitting up and pulling her close as his lips captured hers once again. They made out harshly, moving their lips against each other as their tongues fought to gain control. Kenny grabbed Marjorine and rolled her over so that he was on top of her again, his cock still hard and ready to go. 

“You ready?” He asked. 

Marjorine shook her head. “Wait,” she mumbled, sitting up a bit and pulling one of her side table drawers open. She took out a good sized bottle and handed it to Kenny. He inspected the label and found that it was lube. “I use it sometimes.” Marjorine admitted. 

Kenny nodded and drizzled some of the water based lube onto his hand before running it along his length, making sure it was good and lathered. He tossed the bottle to the side and lined his length up with her entrance, glancing up for permission to proceed. 

Marjorine nodded her head. 

He eased himself inside, moaning at the warmth. Marjorine sighed softly, hissing a little the deeper Kenny went in. “You ok?” He asked. 

“More lube.” She panted. 

Kenny obeyed and lathered more to his length and around Marjorine’s entrance. Then he continued his journey inside, making sure to rub her clit with his thumb. She moaned while Kenny pushed to the brim. 

“God, you feel so fucking good.” Kenny groaned, leaning down and kissing her again while he began to thrust. 

Marjorine moaned and groaned with each movement of Kenny’s hips. He started off slowly, but began building speed. Her legs were wrapped firmly around his waist while he held her hands in his. He felt his tip brushing a soft spot inside her, which he knew was the g-spot. 

“Here,” he mumbled, pulli g away and grabbing her legs. He hooked her knees over his elbows and began pounding harder, and her moans increased in volume. 

“K-Kenny!” She cried, her fists scrunching up the bedsheets. 

“Marjorine, you’re so fucking amazing.” Kenny panted, loving how wild he was making her. 

“K-Ken, I - I love you.” She whispered. 

Kenny stared down at her in slight surprise. She had confessed that she loved him. 

The three words sent him over the edge as he groaned, unloading himself inside her. Marjorine continued to moan, flexing her inner muscles to maximize Kenny’s pleasure. 

After a moment he was completely spent. He pulled out and collapsed beside Marjorine, wrapping her in his arms. He gave her temple a kiss, brushing some of her hair back. “Any good?” 

Marjorine sighed and snuggled up to him. “That was amazing.” She declared. 

“Good for your first time?” 

“Yeah.” She said softly. “Thank you.” 

“No problem.” He murmured, giving her another kiss. “I love you, too.” 

Marjorine looked up at him, her wide eyes seeming to peer deeply into his soul. “Do you?”

“Of course.” She was beautiful, smart, funny, sweet. She was perfect. He realized that he had loved her for a long time, just never truly realizing that it was more than a platonic love. He knew that he had had a crush on her for a while, but never knew that it ran deeper than that. 

“Even though we’re both very drunk?” Her soft, angelic voice breaking him from his thoughts. 

“Yes.” Kenny stated, leaning forward and kissing her softly. “Are you sure?” 

Marjorine giggled a little. “Duh, dummy. I already told you that I’ve liked you for a long time.” She said. 

“I’ll prove that I love you tomorrow, when we’re both sober.” Kenny promised, and with that, they were both pulled into a deep, alcohol, sex-induced sleep. 


End file.
